


The Devil in me Meets the Angel in you

by Bubblepanda07



Series: The Devil in me Meets the Angel in you [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Dean Winchester, Angst, BAMF Dean, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sabriel - Freeform, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Top/Bottom Castiel, Top/Bottom Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:30:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 47,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblepanda07/pseuds/Bubblepanda07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After telling him he can’t live in the bunker, Dean goes to stay with Cas. Through mysterious ways, Dean finds himself with a shiny new set of wings and complementary halo. With this new 'blessing', Dean seeks a way to seal Hell that’s offered to him by none other than the king of Hell himself...with a catch, of course. Everyone at the bunker, including an archangel with a sweet tooth and a familiar smarmy angel, figures out how to bust Heaven back open. Also, whether he likes it or not, Crowley discovers that he has a heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leaving Home

**Author's Note:**

> I got an idea for this and I thought it seemed different enough to push out. Main focus is Dean/Cas and a secondary pairing of Crowley/Balthazar (So much sass!). Though if I do have any Crowlazar smut(not really sure~) I'll probably post it separate because I know that aspect of the relationship may not appeal to everyone. But Destiel smut will definitely be in here.  
> Also, leading into Sabriel at the end which continues as more of a highlight in the sequel.   
> I hope you enjoy enough to stick with me! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything belonging to Supernatural/Eric Kripke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter or so is slow until I run into the plot~ Bear with me ;P

Telling Cas that he couldn’t stay in the bunker and had to go was one of the harest things he’d had to do. While Dean knew there was a ghost of a point made within Ezekiel’s words, he couldn’t help but start to doubt if he had made a bad decision. With his brother’s condition, what choice did he have? The fact that Ezekiel was the only help, aside from someone who tried to beat Cas’ location out of him, went to show how broken that angels actually were. Instead of wanting to help someone, they were more concerned with revenge and fighting for power. Not that Dean should be surprised, he’d learned pretty quickly from the get go how dickish angels were. Now he’d had to tell one of the only ones that hadn't been-incredibly bad decision making skills aside-that he had to leave. His best friend no less, who was now human and pretty defenseless. It was strange seeing his friend, who he was used to being so badass, trying to figure out the things that humans did on a daily basis. He had at least sent him out with a credit card and set him up with a place to stay, but that didn’t really settle him all that much.

Dean looked up with an exasperated expression as a ringtone in the form of ‘Pretty Fly For a Whiteguy’ declared itself in the studious silence before Garth answered it.

“Yeah man, just got settled in here. This place is _sweet_ ….yeah, I hear you brother….mhm…okay, you’ll need a stake made from a holly branch…well then, you better bunker down for the night with some salt. Probably want to put it down on glue to make sure they don’t blow it away….Yeah they can do that. See ya.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at Bobby 2.0. “Glue?”

“Welcome to the 21st century of huntin’.”

Dean looked pensive and mouthed the word ‘glue’ before nodding with a not-bad expression.

“So, you’ve decided to make base here then?”

“Hey, what person in their right mind would say no to this?”

Dean smiled, “Nice to have you here, man.”

“Likewise.”, Garth then walked over to him and, by this point having grown accustomed the behavior, accepted the hug. At least it wasn’t as awkward as hugging Cupid that one time. Of course, that just reminded him of Cas. _‘Well I don’t like it.’ ‘No one likes it.’_

Dean had sat down to eat dinner and everyone was all sitting at the table, discussing cases and interesting odds and ends hidden in the pages of the books on the tabletop. Dean pushed his food around on his plate mindlessly as he looked at all of them; Kevin and Charlie geeking out together, Garth and Sam talking about mermaids (yes, mermaids, which were apparently-or used to be-a legit thing) and himself all seated there….but no Cas.

This was how he had wound up leaving the place he had been able to call home for the first time ever, and had ended up knocking on the door of the small house where Cas was staying.

 

After getting ready to knock a third time, the door opened to reveal a groggy-eyed Cas in a t-shirt and coral boxers with sushi rolls on them.

“Good morning beautiful.”, Dean said in a teasing voice and grinned, adjusting his grip on his bag.

Dean had thought about calling and giving a heads-up, he really had, but seeing Cas’ gaping expression had made him glad he hadn’t.

“D…Dean?” Castiel squinted at him, questioning what his eyes saw.

“In the flesh.”, he gestured to himself. “Mind if I-uh-come in?”

Cas made a noise of acknowledgement and stepped aside to let Dean into the house. Dean stepped into the living room as Cas closed the door behind him. There was a desk in front of a large window to the left with a couple bookshelves lining the walls, a sofa and a couple chairs to the right in front of an old television. A bit further in was a kitchen with a blue countertop, furnished with a newly purchased fridge and stove.

Cas looked at Dean’s bags and tilted his head in confusion, “What are you-I don’t understand.” He squinted as if that would help him comprehend the situation better.

Dean sat down on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Not to impose but uh, I decided I’m going to camp out here until this whole angel business is sorted out. Or at least until Sammy is better. I mean, what kind of friend would I be if I left my favorite former-angel by himself?”, Dean grinned at him again.

“I would be flattered if you didn’t hold other angels in such low regard.”, Cas deadpanned. “But more importantly, wasn’t that your home?”

“Like I said, what kind of friend would I be? Man, if something happened to you and there was something I could have done to help, I don’t know if I could live with myself. And yeah, I know, ‘not my responsibility’ but I make it my responsibility.” He enunciated, pointing a finger at Cas, “So whether you like it or not, here I am.”

“I…do not think I will ever understand humans.”

“No one does, and if they say they do, they’re lying.”

 

Dean plopped his duffle bag up on top of a dresser in the spare bedroom and opened the top drawer, placing his stuff inside.

The house was one that happened to belong to a late man of letters that they had found the deed to while going through some of the files a couple weeks back. It could use some work, but the windows and doors were tight, the plumbing worked well, and nothing was wrong with the electrical. The slight wear could be remedied with a good cleaning and some paint. It even had a small, fenced off back yard and a porch. Granted said yard had hip-deep high grass that may or may not have had the potential to harbor a chupacabra, but even that could be managed…albeit said possible chupacabra would make the managing somewhat more difficult.

Dean finished filling the drawer and closed it (stalling his thinking for the moment of if it were possible to gank a chupacabra with a lawnmower) before looking up into the attached mirror and jumping harshly, his heartbeat stuttering.

“Cas!” Dean met his eyes in the mirror from where he stood close behind him.

“Ah, my apologies Dean.” Cas took a stiff step back.

“We need to put a bell on you or something. I thought that was your angel mojo, but apparently you’re like some sort of freaky ninja tax accountant.”

Dean stood there for a moment before deciding on something, pulling out his cell and texting Sam.

 

Sam was eating a bowl of cereal when his phone vibrated across the surface of the table. Pressing his fingertips to the phone he drug it over next to him before furrowing his eyebrows and snorting out a laugh.

“Weirdo.”

 ** _Dean:_** **_Chupacabra vs lawnmower, who do you think would win?_**

There was a beat of pause before Dean’s phone vibrated and the message flashed up.

 ** _Sammy:_** **_Dude,_** **_have you been watching Syfy movies again?_**

**_Dean: Bitch_ **

**_Sammy: Jerk_ **


	2. Tales From the Crypt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets news of angels nearby and also learns the story of what happened to Cas in the crypt when retrieving the angel tablet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter isn't too hard to get through. The more I write, the more I come to admire authors that seem so at home with a slow pace. I just want to dive in to the plot already! Which should appear in the next chapter~ As always, thanks for reading!

After Dean settled in, he and Cas went about trying to tidy up the house - or at least attempting to make it look less like a horror movie set.

Dean stood up on a stepladder, wiping a cloth over the top of one of the wooden bookshelves while singing under his breath to the music blaring through his headphones.

“Ramble On, And now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song! I’m goin’ round the-huh?” Dean pulled his headphones out as he felt his pocket vibrate. Pulling out his phone he hit answer. “What’s up, Sammy?”

“I guess that means you haven’t heard the news. Last night, some patrons of a bar not far from here had their eyes burned out. I’m not sure if angels being this close is on purpose or just coincidence.”

“How close?”

“A town just over from where you and Cas are staying.”

Dean gripped the cloth in his freehand tighter. “Damn. Thanks for the heads up.”

Cas looked at him from across the room, eyes narrowed slightly in concern.

Sam sighed over the phone, “I still don’t know why you and Cas can’t be here, but be careful Dean.”

“Yeah, I will. You too, Sammy.” Dean exhaled and put his phone back in his pocket.

“What was that about?”

“Apparently some of your estranged siblings walked into a bar and flashed people, angel bits and all. It was close by, but we don’t know if they’re here looking for you, or if they just happen to be passing through.”

Cas hesitated for a moment before replying, “Are you sure you want to be here?”

“Look, I told you-“

“I know, but what exactly do you expect to do against angels? We’re both just humans.”

“Stab their ass!...well, not their ass, but you know what I mean.”

Cas sighed, “Dean, you’re not the only one worried. You should-“

“Nope, that’s the end of this discussion. I’m not going to go anywhere and I’m not talking about this anymore. Now get back to dusting, Cinderella.”

“I do not underst-“

“Never mind. Just clean.” Dean gestured towards the shelf with his dusty rag.

 

A few hours of strenuous cleaning later and the house was actually looking respectable. The finished wood floors were shiny and clean, the windows were no longer dingy and discolored, and Dean was convinced that they had removed enough dust to fill purgatory. Twice. And he should know.

Walking into the kitchen, Dean opened the fridge, only to find it completely empty.

“Really man, no food?”

“When I got here last night I fell asleep almost immediately. My vessel felt heavy, which I have come to associate with a need for rest.”

Dean stared at him and Cas, of course, was staring back- resulting in a stare off. A car horn honked outside in traffic and Dean jumped.

“Right, food. We should-“

“Yes.”

“-go. Yeah.” Dean cleared his throat before walking over briskly to grab his jacket, pulling it on swiftly and grabbing the keys of the Impala from his pocket.

           

When the pair arrived back at the house, it was a little past noon, the sun was high in the sky, the sunlight bathing everything in warmth. The air was brisk and a light breeze blew softly, causing the leaves of the maple trees along the road to dance lightly. Dean grabbed two handfuls of groceries and stepped up onto the sidewalk, pushing the small wrought iron gate open with his hip- though it took some effort due to the rusted state it was in. Cas followed suit and they walked up the steps, waiting for a beat while Cas fished the house key from his pocket and slid it home, unlocking the door.

“Ugh, I’m gonna eat my hand.”

“I really hope that was a figure of speech. Otherwise, my people skills are more off than I formerly believed.”

Dean huffed a laugh, “You’re lucky I’m here. We gotta get you up to speed if you’re going to be interacting with people now. It’s a good thing that you’re a good looking guy, people will let a lot slide.” He paused from where he was putting the groceries in the fridge. “Man, I think that’s the gayest thing I’ve ever said.”

 

Dean finished fixing the burgers and slid Cas’ plate over to him on the counter, sitting down on a stool across from him. He was about three bites in when Cas spoke up.

“Dean? You look troubled.”

“I always look troubled. Except…”

“Yes?” Cas tilted his head in question.

“Something I’ve always wondered about, but never really had the chance to ask…what happened in the crypt when we got the angel tablet?”

Cas finished chewing and swallowed, suddenly feeling somewhat tense.

“That night-“ He cut himself off, shifting uncomfortably as he figured out what to say. Licking his lips, he started again. “That night, and since purgatory, I was being controlled by another angel named Naomi. I even wonder if perhaps I was being brainwashed before that.”

“Let me get this straight, some broad brought you back from purgatory to use you as a puppet? So you could what? Gank me? That’s kind of a crappy goal. Talk about low aspirations.”

“The main purpose I believe was to retrieve the tablet. I think killing you was an afterthought when she believed you would get in the way of what she wanted.”

“Then what? She called it off?”

“No.” Cas took a steadying breath before trudging forward. “She trained me to be able to kill you. There must have been hundreds, if not a thousand, attempts.” He looked down at his hands where he had them rested in his lap. “But, even after all that, I…I could not do it.” He looked up at Dean, his blue eyes shining warmly, and smiled softly. “You are too important to me.”

Dean held his gaze for a few seconds before he could feel his face heating up and quickly dropped his eyes to the floor. He rubbed his neck and coughed awkwardly.

“Just eat your stupid burger.”  Dean mumbled, willing the blush to drop from his face. A dude should not be blushing because of another dude, it just wasn’t natural. Yet honestly, when was anything in his life natural? Never, that’s when. He doubted anything could surprise him by this point. He was wrong, of course.  

 


	3. I'm a Treetopper, Sammy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note, in this story Cas never killed Balthazar. That always irked me because he gave Crowley the option of flee or die, but straight up stabbed his friend. How messed up was that?  
> Thanks for taking the time to read!

Dean walked into Cas’ room and placed a hand on each side of his face, stirring him awake. His hair was sticking up in random directions and he was wrapped up in the sheets.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!” Dean chuckled and patted his right hand against Cas’ cheek. Cas mumbled in reply and placed his hand in the center of Dean’s face and pushed it away, causing Dean to laugh. “Somebody isn’t a morning person.”

A while later Cas entered the kitchen, eyes narrowing in a mock glare at Dean where he stood at the stove flipping a pancake.

“Cas, man, whenever you look at me like that I feel like I’m two seconds away from that Anna Mclaughlin song.”

 

Dean was putting the dishes in the sink when there was a knock at the door. He and Cas looked at one another, the air tense. Dean walked over to the sofa and pulled the angel blade he kept with him from the pocket. Before he could answer the door it was kicked open, a tall man walking in. The man’s gaze zeroed in on Cas.

“Ah, there you are. So it’s true, you’ve lost your grace. I guess that makes my job easier.”

“Who are you and what do you want?” Dean tightened his grip on the sword.

“I am the gatekeeper, Hadraniel. What I want is his head.” He said, pointing at Castiel.

“That’s not going to happen, dickwad.”

“I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

The angel approached and Dean attempted to stab him, but the angel dodged it without much effort and backhanded him roughly, sending him to the ground.

He moved forward, backing Castiel up against a wall.

“Hadraniel, do not do this!”

“Silence!”

“Hey, dickbag!” Dean had climbed back to his feet, sword raised, but Hadraniel was quicker than he had anticipated. He shoved his sword deep into his chest. Blood dripped out of the corner of Dean’s mouth, his heart pumped and beat once around the silver blade piercing it before stilling in his chest, the blade slid free as his body crumpled to the floor. Castiel scrambled for his dropped blade, his fingers finding purchase around the handle as he picked it up and plunged it into Hadraniel’s back.

“Dean. Dean!”

Castiel’s eyes were wide in panic and his hands shook as he placed one over the wound in Dean’s chest and held the other to the base of his neck to feel for a pulse, but there was nothing there. He sat there, frozen in shock, his heart constricting painfully in his chest, a cold numbness creeping over him. “Dean?” His voice was quiet and small.

 

Dean opened his eyes and blinked in confusion, the bright light overhead forcing his pupils down into pinpricks in a sea of green. He was surrounded by various tropical plants and, looking up, saw a glass dome overhead.

“Am I…dead?”

“Yes.”

Dean startled, not expecting a response.

“Hey, you’re that one guy!”

“Joshua, yes.”

“How am I in Heaven?”

“You’re not. This is a dream.”

“…so I guess I’m seeing this for a reason?”

“Yes, God has a message.”

“He’s still around?”

“He is always around. But he says, it is not yet your time. There are big things in store for you, Dean Winchester.”

“There’s freakin’ always big things in store for me. A little thanks every now and then would be-“

“Farewell.”

Mid-sentence Dean felt a sharp pulling sensation and was once again unconscious.

 

Cas was still frozen in place when he felt Dean’s chest rise and fall beneath his hand. His breath came out in a shudder. “Dean?” He watched as the wound in Dean’s chest knit itself closed, then began glowing bright, spreading up until he could see it shining through his mouth. The light started glowing brighter until Cas had to squeeze his eyes shut and turn away, shielding his eyes behind his arm, his vision flaring red behind his pale eyelids.

Once the red died down behind his eyes, he turned back and looked down at Dean. He grabbed his shoulders and shook him. The jostling prompted him awake and he blinked blearily. His brain felt foggy and drugged as he looked up at Cas and raised his head.

“Wow, you’ve got some awesome peepers Cas.” His words were slurred and drowsy. Dropping his head back against the wooden floor he spotted the bloody angel sword on the floor, jarring his memory. “Holy shit!” Dean lunged forward and sat up, rubbing his hands frantically over his chest. Finding it free of wounds he stilled his movements. “Fuckin’ A.”

“You were dead.”

“I kind of got that! Also, your dad’s a dick, you know that? Always with the cryptic crap. He would make a great politician.”

“I’m not entirely sure what happened, but there was a light. Dean, I don’t think you were just resurrected.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is there a disturbance in the force or something?”

“I’m not sure. But I think I know how to find out.” Cas flicked his tongue out nervously over his dry lips before closing his eyes in prayer. “I pray to the angel Balthazar. Something has…come up. I think-“, Cas opened his eyes briefly, flicking his gaze over to Dean and back in front, repeating the motion before closing his eyes again. “-I think Dean’s an angel.”

“Like fucking hell I am!”

“We won’t know for sure until he gets here. I don’t know how long it will take since he can’t fly and I don’t know where he is.”

“You gotta be kidding me. This isn’t happening. I’m dreaming. This is all some kind of weird ass dream and I’m going to wake up. Anytime now.” A moment passed in silence as Dean closed his eyes and tried to will himself to wake up, his eyebrows furrowed. Cracking an eye open he looked around, still sitting on the floor next to Cas who was looking at him with a concerned expression, his lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “ _Son of a bitch_.”

           

It had been a couple hours and Dean looked at his phone for the fourth time in just as many minutes. He wished there were a guidebook for this sort of this. Like a _‘How to tell your brother you may be a dick with wings for dummies’_. He kept trying to think of things to say, and the more things he thought of, the more ridiculous they got. Some of his favorites were ‘ _Hey, what has two wings and two thumbs?_ ’, ‘ _Good news Sammy, you can save on minutes by just praying to me._ ’ or ‘ _Guess who’s a new member of the mile-high club?_ ’. Dean clunked his head down on the countertop in defeat.

Finally he sighed and pressed the speed-dial button.

“Hey Sammy, now don’t freak out-well, maybe freak out a little- but um…well you see-“

“What is it Dean? What’s wrong?”

“Okay, so an angel came-“

“What?! Are you alright?!”

“Yeah Sammy, I’m alright, Cas is alright. Calm down, everything is fine. It’s just um, I was kind of down for the count and then I came back and I may or may not be an angel now.”

That went smoothly. The line was absolutely silent on the other end.

“I don’t even know what to say to that. Are you joking with me? Because this is a really shitty joke Dean.”

“I wish I were. Like I said, we’re waiting for Balthazar to drop by and give us a verdict. I don’t feel any different so it’s hard to tell. We’re kind of winging it right now.” ‘ _Heh heh, winging it._ ’ Dean cleared his throat and sobered up.

He heard Sam sigh on the line. “Just be safe Dean. And be sure to tell me if anything happens!”

“I will. Bye Sammy.” Dean ended the call and rubbed his hand over his face, his skin clammy under his palm from nerves.


	4. And Then There was Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m hoping I can keep this writing pace up, but I have a few finals in the next few days so I’ll have to see how that goes!  
> Thanks for reading~

When Dean lay down to sleep that night, he was unaware of what his dreams would bring. There was a vast darkness, stretching on for forever in every direction into nothingness. Suddenly there was a bright flash, the brightest thing Dean had ever seen and he could feel life thrumming from it, an invisible essence that seemed to excite his own internal life-force. It was brief and then there were stars, and planets, and galaxies and, Dean realized with a start, _the universe_. It all unfurled before his eyes, pushing out from the center of the flash of light and expanding. There was Earth, a ball of molten lava and fire, and in the same fast forward speed it died down, giving wake to oceans. Then there were living creatures and he could see blades of grass and plants sprouting. Before him now was a large tree and also a man and a woman. Then a snake made way into the garden and he could see it talking to the woman who seemed distressed. Then she took an apple from the tree, its skin was dark red and smooth, and bit into it.

Dean woke up with a gasp, his green eyes wide and his heartbeat hammering away in his chest. Realizing he was in his room and was dreaming, he closed his eyes to calm himself. After a few minutes he got up and brushed his teeth before taking a long shower.

Walking into the living room Cas greeted him from where he sat on the off-white sofa, an old book in his lap.

“Hello, Dean. How are you feeling?” He looked up at him, blue eyes concerned.

“You mean aside from dreaming about all of creation? I’m just peachy, thanks for asking.”

“I…suppose that makes sense. That is something ingrained into all angels.”

“I’m not an angel!” Dean snapped angrily.   

“I remember when the Nile was formed in Egypt.” Cas said as he looked back to his book, eyebrows raised slightly and lips pursed.

Dean grabbed a glass of water while mumbling under his breath about ‘smartass angels’.

 

“Dude, we’re about to get you educated with the Force.” Dean said, grabbing his plate and Cas’ and carrying them over to the coffee table in front of the sofa. Dean opened up his laptop and opened up a file with Star Wars downloaded. “We’re going to pretend the first three episodes didn’t happen though.” Dean sat back with his feet propped on the table, legs crossed at the ankles. Cas had one foot tucked under a thigh and the other next to Dean’s on the tabletop.

Partway through the second movie he noticed Cas squirming minutely in his seat.

“You alright there Cas?”

“I think I’m cold.” He frowned. “It is most unpleasant.”

Dean sat for a few minutes before rolling his eyes—at himself more than anything—and lifted the corner of the blue blanket he had across his lap, throwing it over Cas’. He looked at him in surprise. “Thank you.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t mention it, frosty.”

 

It was towards the end of the final movie that Dean felt a light weight press on his shoulder. He tensed and looked over, seeing Cas’ head resting there, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and soft. ‘ _He fell asleep._ ’ Dean thought to himself. He considered waking him up, but then he nuzzled lightly into his shoulder and his heart melted. He would deny that, of course, but there was no one around to bear witness to it, so what the hell? Not long after, he himself had dozed off, his head tilting over to rest on top of Cas’. Dean felt comfortable and at rest, something that was rare for him these days.

 

Dean could see a desert landscape, could practically feel the torrid heat on his skin. The sun up ahead was bright and unforgiving. In this dream, he bore witness to locusts, plagues, and a man making a path through the sea.

A knock at the door startled Dean from his sleep and he felt Cas shift beside him. They looked at each other and Dean got up warily, hand going to his jacket as he crept silently to the door. When he was close he heard the person speak from the other side. “Are you going to open the blasted door or not?” At that, Cas stood up straight and went for the door, opening it to greet their visitor.

“Oh good, glad to see you alive.” Balthazar smiled softly at Castiel and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Yes, but that is not of import.”

“I know, I got your message. So where’s the hairless monkey?”

Dean cleared his throat and Balthazar looked into the house from where he still stood on the porch. He gaped at him, his hand still gripping onto Castiel. Not taking his eyes from Dean, he patted Castiel. “Congratulations, Cassie, your favorite mudfish is an angel.”

“…I need a freakin’ drink.”

“You and me both.”

 

“So I’ve got the whole-“ Dean trailed off, waving over his head.

“Yes, I can see your halo. It’s very dim, but I can see it, shining like a giant middle finger to the natural order.”

“Dim?”

“Much like your brain. However, I haven’t the slightest what that means since none of your lot has become an angel before. So if that’s all, I’ll be going.” Balthazar turned around and started heading for the door.

“Wait!” Cas grabbed him by the wrist. “Can you see if you hear anything else from the others?” Not needing to specify ‘others’ meaning other angels.

“After everything that’s happened, are you giving me orders again?” Balthazar’s eyes seemed to sharpen.

“No. I’m asking you, as a friend, for your help.”

Balthazar looked at him, his gaze softening and sighed.

“Alright Cassie, I’ll ask around and listen in to see if I hear anything.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, brother.” Balthazar looked over to Dean. “You are lucky he’s so ridiculously fond of you.”

Dean went to make a sarcastic retort but was stopped when he was overcome with an intense lightheaded sensation, causing the world to tilt on its axis. His fingers gripped the blue counter in front of him tightly, his knuckles bleeding white. He felt his knees give out and his breath was labored as his vision swam, Cas coming to his side, yells muffled by the ringing sensation in his ears. He could hear faint murmers, but not with his ears--no--they were _inside his head_. He could feel a slight burning sensation in his chest. He was vaguely aware that he was saying nonsensical things and making noises, but other than that all he could focus on was the burning and the voices. Dean wasn’t sure how long he was there on the floor, Cas’ hands on his shoulders, when everything died down before the sensations vanished completely. Dean was shaking and panting, his senses feeling raw after the unexpected assault, skin covered in a sheet of sweat.

Cas looked up helplessly at Balthazar.

“I’ll see what I can find, Cassie. Though I can’t promise anything.”

Cas nodded at him before turning his concerned blue eyes back to Dean.  


	5. Team Free Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it sad that I get excited about coming up with names for chapters?...probably~ Thanks for reading, lovelies!

Cas helped Dean stand up from the linoleum floor and onto a nearby stool, the wood creaking as he put his weight upon it, arms resting on the countertop.  

“What happened, Dean?”

“Hell if I know. Everything got tilted ass on end and I felt like I was freakin’ being set on fire, from the _inside_. Oh, and apparently I’m developing schizophrenia. So I have that going for me.” Dean smiled mockingly.

“I think it’s far more likely that it was, as you say, angel radio. Schizophrenia is not something that goes that qui-”

“Yeah yeah, I get it.” Dean waved him off and rubbed his eyes, dragging his hands down to the back of his neck. “This is really happening.”

“It would appear that way, yes.”

 

Dean was partway to the kitchen with a plate in his hand when warmth pooled in his chest and his limbs grew weak, dropping him to his knees. The plate shattered on the floor, the white ceramic pieces scattering on the wood flooring. Cas’ head jerked up from reading when he heard the noise and he discarded his book without a thought and went to Dean’s side.

The heat flared to life until it was a swirl of writhing, molten sensation coiling inside of him. He clutched his right hand against his chest as if the pressure would sooth the wild roiling inside, his fingers twisted in the green fabric of his shirt, but the pain only continued to climb and stretch inside him. Cas could see light shining brightly in Dean’s chest through the material of his shirt. When the pain reached a peak, Dean blacked out, body going slack on the floor.

           

Dean was surrounded by people, chattering about a man who claimed to be the son of God and how blasphemous it was. Then Dean saw him, nailed to a cross, a crown of thorns about his head. He saw him die, then later, witnessed him walk free of his crypt on the mountain.

When he woke up, he blinked slowly as he came to his surroundings.

“Jesus.” Dean raised his left hand weakly and rubbed at his eyes.

He was sitting up on the floor of the study, next to a bookcase, and propped against the wall. More specifically, leaning against Cas against the wall. Dean’s head was laid back on his shoulder, Cas’ hand over his own where it was still held against his chest. His slight movements stirred him awake and he turned his head to look at him, Dean could read the sadness and worry in his eyes. Dean’s skin felt feverish against his own and it was so hot it almost seemed to burn, his skin was tinted red around his eyes and some of the tan color had been leeched from his skin. Dean briefed a look at him before averting his eyes, not wanting to see his expression any longer.

“This is by far the worst thing about being human.” Cas looked up at the ceiling before smiling a small, bitter smile.

“What?” Dean’s voice was soft.

“Feeling so…helpless. I don’t know how you do it.”

“With family.” Dean looked at Cas and smiled warmly. “Friends.”

“I hate how I can’t do anything to help you when you’re falling apart.”

“I’ll be alright Cas. I mean, God wouldn’t just bring me back and throw grace at me just to have it wipe me off the planet.” He turned his head where he still had it laid on Cas shoulder to look up at him. “Right?”

Cas huffed, “You’re asking _me?_ Though admittedly, it would be nonsensical even for him.”

Dean sat there comfortably against him, at least as comfortable as he could be with a celestial energy trying to rearrange his insides. Dean pulled his hand out from under Cas’ and rubbed a thumb over the back of his hand.

“I’m going to be okay.”

“It worries me that I’m not sure if you’re saying that for my benefit, or yours.”

Dean laughed lightly, “Both.” He patted the hand under his before struggling to raise up to his feet, using the bookshelf and the wall for leverage. He put a hand out to still Cas when he tried to help. “It’s alright, I’ve got this.” He heaved a sigh when he was fully upright from the effort that little action took. “You wanna go for a drive? I wanna go for a drive.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, you look like ass.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m driving, not competing in a beauty contest. I’m gonna call Sammy and ask him if he wants to come along.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at him and his mouth thinned down into a sharp line, but he went with him regardless. Even as a human he seemed doomed to follow his charge.

 

They picked up Sam and were on the way down a deserted road. Dean concentrated on the cool, smooth leather of the steering wheel under his rough hands, the sound of the engine, the way the blacktop sparkled when touched by the light of the headlights, Sammy in the passenger seat and Cas in the back. This was his heaven, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He just wanted to revel in it one more time, just in case the whole ‘ _let’s turn Dean Winchester into an angel_ ’ deal went belly up.

About fifteen minutes down the road, Dean started feeling the tell-tell signs of another episode. His tan skin was prickling as if every hair on his body was standing on end and he felt like a weight was settling into his chest.

“No. _No_.” Dean gulped for air and hurriedly brought the Impala to a halt in the road. One word was repeating in his head like a broken record player, ‘ _out out out_ ’. He could barely acknowledge Sam and Cas’ frantic calls as he flung open the door and stumbled out of the car, making it a few paces up the road before his legs gave out, his palms flush against the rough asphalt. The fall air was a brief reprieve on his too hot skin. He felt heat coil in his chest again before pushing out, as if it were trying to escape a prison. A few seconds later it ripped through him and he felt like every nerve-ending had been set on fire before everything went black.

Sam had to clench his eyes shut when light burst from Dean’s mouth and eyes, brightening the dark night. When the light died down, he opened his eyes and saw his brother crumpled in the road, completely silent. Cas was at his side in a heartbeat and after feeling for a pulse he looked up at him.

“He’s still alive.”

Sam nodded and breathed out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding when he caught something out of the corned of his eye.

“Cas.”

Cas looked to where Sam was staring with wide eyes. Illuminated in the headlights of the Impala was the pitch black shadow of a wing on the pavement. They watched as it slowly contracted towards Dean’s unconscious body.  

 

Dean was really getting tired of passing out. He had a feeling though, if dreams were anything to go by, that he was finished with the blackouts. At least he hoped so, he wasn’t sure how much more abuse he could take. He looked over and saw Sam and Cas, sitting in chairs they had pulled into the room. They were both sleeping and slumped in ways that looked really uncomfortable. While he was irked that they had obviously tried staying up the night—failed, but he would give them an A for effort—he was also warmed a little bit knowing that they worried about him. Not that he would admit it, nor did he think he was worth it, yet there it was.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stepped out, gripping the bed to steady himself. To his surprise, he felt completely better. Better than better, in fact.

“Rise and shine!” Dean hollered enthusiastically, his green eyes sparkling.

The pair startled awake and Sam pulled out the bitch-face. Cas tried sitting up straight and grimaced, bringing his hand up to his neck as he stretched. Sam’s expression faltered when he took in his brother.

“You look-“

“-great, right? Admit it, I’m majestic.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, then cleared his throat and looked serious after Sam shot him a withering glare. “But really, I think I’m going to be okay now.”

“How can you be sure this isn’t just a phase?”

“Thanks for the comfort, negative nancy. Something different happened last night, right?”

Dean could tell from the look Sam and Cas traded and he was right.

“You grew wings.”

He should have been more surprised and that shouldn’t have made as much sense as it had, but it did. The fighting inside of him was because something wanted out. Granted he hadn’t foreseen at the time that it would be wings developing, but there you have it. Dean Winchester was now an honorary angel.

“That wasn’t all that happened either. I had a dream.”

“Huh?”

“Dean’s been having dreams about major biblical events that occurred in the past.” Cas supplied, still trying to work soreness out of places that had no right to be sore.

“So why was this one so special? What was it about?”

Dean smirked and walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. “The apocalypse, and three dudes riding to the end of the world in a black Impala.” He opened the door and walked out, ingraining the image of the pairs' surprised expressions in his memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had wanted to try and stretch Dean's transition period out longer because I didn't want it to seem rushed...but at the same time, I wanted it to be done by the third day, for symbolism purposes. >_>; Plus I feel like being hit with grace is going to very quickly rip the owner a new one and then be done with it. While there's some levity at the end, Dean still has a lot of work ahead of him!


	6. Arch the Herald Angels Sing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Spoilers for 9x09 Holy Terror. Better safe than sorry~  
> Also, I give up on indenting paragraphs. It doesn't like my copy-pasta.

After playing twenty questions with Sam and Cas, Dean was quite agitated, to say the least. He was touched—really he was—that they cared, but mostly he was just annoyed.

“How do you feel?”

“I told you, I feel fantastic.” Dean shoveled a large bite of pancake into his mouth. He may be an angel now, but just because he doesn’t _need_ to eat, doesn’t mean he doesn’t _want_ to.

“No, I mean like how do you _feel_?”

“ _Sam_.” He ground out.

“I’m serious, Dean!”

“I’m an angel, Sammy, not the terminator.” ‘ _I’ll take things I never thought I’d say for three-hundred’_ flashed through Dean’s head.

Sam put his hands up in a placating manner, “ _Okay_. I was just making sure.”

So far the trio had figured out that as far as they could tell, nothing had changed about Dean. He wasn’t tuned in to angel radio, didn’t see their souls, nor could he fly, let alone any of the angel things that weren’t involuntary such as chronokenesis. It was Cas’ theory that, since he was human first, those were things he would have to learn to tap into. Which Dean was actually thankful for because A: He was fairly certain that if he had to listen to angel radio all the time, he would lose his mind and B: He wasn’t keen on the idea of seeing everyone’s soul out for display on account that it kind of seemed like an invasion of privacy.

Cas’ cellphone rang and he answered it, silencing Dean’s argument that since he was an angel, he would eat as much bacon as he damn well pleased. Dean scowled in confusion and he and Sam traded looks, not sure of whom would be calling him.

“How big are we talking?...How soon can you be here?...Meet us here, then we’ll head over there.” Cas hung up and pocketed the phone. “That was Balthazar, apparently something is…up. He will meet us here and then we will go meet with Kevin and Charlie.”

“Something is up?” Dean raised an eyebrow, “Like did he say what?”

Cas made an exasperated noise, “No, he did not. He said that he didn’t want to have to tell it twice.”

 

Everyone was seated at the wooden long table in the library except for Balthazar, who stood at the end.

“Okay kiddies, what I found out is that when the eldest Winchester here grew wings, there was another simultaneous event.”

“Which was?”

“Impatient little twit, aren’t you?”

“Balthazar.” Cas gave him a sharp look.

“Yes yes. Well,” Balthazar licked his bottom lip and smiled, “some of our late brothers and sisters miraculously came back to the realm of the living. Now, it isn’t so much the numbers we are looking at that makes that special. Personally, I don’t give a damn if some cherub comes back to life. But this, oh _this_.” Balthazar chuckled. “Daddy must really be upset with our other brothers and sisters, Cassie.”

“What do you mean?” Cas swallowed thickly.

“No need to be nervous, he tipped the scales in our favor. We have one big advantage that Malachi and Bartholomew don’t have.”

“Which would be?” Dean spurred him on again, hoping to finally get a straight answer this time.

“Honeeeeey, I’m _ho_ -ooooome!” The sound of an applause track followed the statement, cutting off after a few seconds.

Everyone quickly turned around to face the other end of the table where the loud declaration came from.

“You gotta be _shitting_ me. _Gabriel_?”

“Got it in one, Dean-o!”  The short angel with dirty blonde hair snapped his fingers and confetti fell from thin air. Everyone sat there dumbfounded, staring at the archangel as the red paper fragments rained down on them. “Hm, tough crowd.”

“Sweet baby Jesus.” Charlie couldn’t quite believe what she was experiencing. If someone had told her that this morning she would be sitting in front of an archangel, she would have told them something along the lines of ‘ _Yeah right, and Voldemort’s the Tooth Fairy._ ’

Kevin took a bottle of aspirin from his pocket, shook two out in his hand and swallowed them down dry.

Dean whispered quietly to Cas, “Was he really the one that told Mary she was pregnant.”

A smile played on Cas’ lips and he leant over towards Dean to respond, “That part was-ah-edited quite heavily.”

“Okay, so what does this change?”

“Apart from _everything_? I mean it’s hardly a won battle yet, but something tells me many will be more willing to follow big brother Gabriel than they would either of those two. But there will probably still be opposition due to his known affiliation with you two.” Balthazar looked pointedly at Sam and Dean.

“So what, before you didn’t even want to get involved with anything to do with other angels, and now you’re leading the troop?”

“I never said I liked it, Dean-o. I was here to avoid dealing with my brothers and sisters fighting with each other, but now they’re down here. Makes it a little hard to get away, not to mention they’re kind of making a wreck of the place and that kind of pisses me off. So yes, I’m ready to kick ass and take names.”

“Well,” Balthazar clapped his hands together, “now that that’s taken care of.” He stood behind Cas and Dean, a hand on each of their shoulders. “I need to speak with the two of you.” Suddenly they were all standing in the kitchen.

“What gives?”

“ _What gives_ is that one of the angels that came back from the dead was Ezekiel.”

Dean felt like his stomach had bottomed out and he swallowed hard. “ _What_?”

Gabriel popped into the kitchen with them, his expression sour.

“Whoever is hitching a ride in your brother isn’t Ezekiel, and the fact that they lied doesn’t bode well.”

Dean punched a stainless steel countertop and it dented under his fist. “Sam is sick so I can’t just tell him to punch out. Plus he doesn’t know.”

Three pairs of eyes landed heavily on him at that confession.  

Gabriel heaved an exasperated sigh. “Just say the word.”

“What?”

“Say the word and I’ll fix your mess. You brothers are such a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“You can-I mean-fix him? And it won’t hurt him?”

He mock gasped, clutching at his chest. “Would I hurt Sammy? I’m _wounded_.”

“Well you had no trouble hurting me.”

“Only on Tuesdays.” Gabriel held his hands out to his sides. “Well? Yes or no.”

“What the hell do you think?”

Gabriel smirked and bowed, speaking before flitting away, “As you wish.”

Not even a minute later he was back.

“Just like that?” Dean flicked his tongue out nervously over his lip.

“Done and done, Dean-o. You’re welcome. It was Gadreel bee-tee-dubs, ya know, the ass-hat who let evil into the garden. Also, a halo looks good on you. Speaking of which, we need to get you in the air.”

“I beg your pardon.” Dean tilted his chin down and raised his eyebrows.

“Flying and all the other good angel bits. I’m guessing you can’t even spread your wings.”

“What makes you say that?”, he crossed his arms over his chest, he knew it made him look defensive but he was too irked to care. ‘ _Today had looked so promising, too._ ’

“Alright then, spread ‘em. Prove me wrong.” Gabriel smirked at him, one hand resting on his hip.

Dean frowned, “When you put it like that, you sound like you have some sort of wing fetish.”

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“Okay, now I wouldn’t even if I could.”

“ _Prude._ ”

“This is not helping.” Cas spoke and Dean could have sworn that his cheeks were tinged slightly with pink.

“So it’s settled. Tomorrow Balty will be teaching you to fly and do all the exciting angel things! Now, I’m gonna bounce. Unless you hopeless fools need anything else? Call me if you need me. Ta!” With that, the archangel had disappeared as quickly as he had flown in. While Dean knew having him around was hardly an end-all-be-all, he was sure as hell glad to have him on their side. Never look a gift archangel in the mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost thought of saying ‘heeeey, Ezekiel never hopped inside Sam’ but then that would open a whole can of worms of things that wouldn’t have happened in those circumstances =w= Well, really just Cas dying and being brought back since this excludes 9x09(You know why). But that’s kind of something important. Just kind of.


	7. How to Train your Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Dean learns he has bad judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the bane of my existence. I struggled with so much indecision! Wing links at the end so you don't have to do aviary research like I did. ;P  
> Thanks for reading, dearlings~

“Hey Sammy, while I’m here I’m gonna go check on smarmy dick.”

“Balthazar or Crowley?”

Dean snorted, “The one keeping company with the cobwebs in our dungeon.”

 

Sam and Dean walked into the dungeon; Crowley was slouched in the chair with his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, hands clasped in his lap.

“I don’t guess you’ve changed your mind on giving us names now that Abaddon’s stealing your thunder?”

Crowley’s gaze was locked on Dean, clearly surprised.

“Crowley? Earth to Crowley!”

Crowley grinned, “You’ve got to be kidding me with this.” He looked at Sam before looking back to Dean. “Congratulations on moving up in the food chain, squirrel.”

“That’s not important. You gonna help us or not?”

“Oh, I disagree. I think it’s _very_ important. But no.” His answer was met with a pair of glares. “What? You think slaughtering a bunch of piss ant level demons is going to make a difference? That’s like shooting the drummer boy and expecting the general to surrender.”

“Well what’s the alternative?!” Dean snapped at him.

Crowley gave a small, close-lipped smile, narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, keeping silent.

Dean sighed, “You’re gonna have to crack eventually.”

The boys left him behind in the room to himself once more.

 

Back at the house Dean stood shirtless in front the mahogany desk, pajama pants settled on his hips, a somewhat dully lit lamp directed at his self to cast a shadow on the wall. He had been trying for the last twenty minutes to get his wings to come out to play, but had yet to see a single feather. His muscles were cramped from strain and he felt a droplet of sweat travel down his tanned forehead and on down his cheek leaving a damp trail in its wake. He pressed his palms against his eyes, face directed towards the ceiling.

“Fuck me.”

It was at that moment that Cas walked into the living space to return a book to the shelf but stopped short. He took in the desk lamp pointed at Dean, then at Dean himself.

He squinted at the scene, “What exactly are you trying to accomplish?”

“I’m trying to get my wings to come out, but they’re being assholes.”

“What are you doing to get them to expand?”

“Just-“ Dean closed his eyes and furrowed his brow in concentration, pulling his shoulders back, peeked under an eyelid and then dropped his posture once he saw that he had failed again.

“You are trying with your vessel? An angel’s wings are an extension of their grace, what you should focus on is inside.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, “And how, exactly, do I do that?”

Pursing his lips in thought, Cas pondered how to explain the sensation that was so involuntary to him. “Concentrate on your grace here,” Cas raised a hand over the center of his chest, “and you shouldn’t be tensing it up. Spreading your wings is a relaxed motion, an outward unfurling of your grace.”

“Sure, okay.” Dean nodded and licked his lips before closing his eyes again. He took up a relaxed stance, rolled his shoulders to relax some of the coiled muscles, his arms hanging loosely at his sides as he took in unhurried, steady breaths. He focused his attention to where Cas indicated and envisioned a point of blue light there, glowing brightly, and then imagined it curling out, little by little. His skin tingled softly and he felt so completely at peace as he watched the light.

“Dean.” Cas spoke quietly in the dim lit room.

Dean cracked his eyes open and, sure enough, manifested on the far wall was a large wingspan. _His_ wings.

Cas wore a small smile, “It’s kind of funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“You helping me to be a human and me helping you to be an angel.”

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re a much better human than I am an angel.”

“I should be, I’ve been watching them for a few thousand years.” Cas smirked, “Give or take.”

Dean huffed out a breath before turning his head to look behind him. Spotting his wings for the first time directly he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Holy Humpty Dumpty!” He had assumed that angel wings would just look plain and transparent, just like the shadows on the wall. But he could see them solidly, they looked like falcon wings, red tinted brown feathers at the arches of the wings leading down into black and whited feathers with a grey stippled pattern throughout.

Cas hummed softly, “I suppose their true appearance would be new to you.”

“Are they all like this?” Dean brought his right hand to his left wing and ran his fingertips over it and stopped abruptly, making a face before crossing his arms. Petting himself kind of freaked him out a little.  

“Well, I can’t see yours right now, but no. Wings are different depending on the angel.”

“What do yours look like?”

Cas looked down at his bare feet, curling his toes, scratching absently at his collar bone under a grey t-shirt. “They were mostly black, with a little blue and green. White-throated needletail, to be precise.”

Dean caught the past tense that he used and walked over to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, we’re going to get your grace back.” He gave him a pat before letting his hand drop back down limply to his side.

Cas gave a non-committed hum in response.

“Now, how do I put these things back?”

 

Dean was browsing news on his laptop, Cas leaning over the sofa behind him, when Balthazar popped in, his stance loose and thumbs tucked into his pockets.

“Hey, what gives, I thought your wings were scorched off?”

“Big brother Gabriel fixed them. He said he couldn’t have a second in command without wings.”

Stepping forward he clapped a hand to Dean, as well as Cas, and they were standing on a tropical beach.

“You took me with you?” Cas said, frowning.

“If you weren’t here, I’m not sure I could keep from strangling your favorite fan.”

“Assbag.”

Balthazar ignored him, “First things first, we have to at least teach you to spread your wings.”

“Done and done.” Dean smirked and concentrated on expanding the light in his center, wings appearing and stretching out.

“Oh good. Do you want a cookie? Wipe that smirk off your face.” Balthazar brought his own wings out, using them as a demonstration for his next lesson. They were large, white wings with a light brown arch, black spotting across it containing touches of grey among the wing tips. ‘ _Bastard has owl wings._ ’ Dean pouted internally, possibly experiencing a bit of wing envy, though he would rather sit on a cactus than admit to the fact.

After listening to Balthazar’s explanation of flying—something along the lines of being equal parts wing manipulation and good judgment on when to stop—he readied himself for his first flight attempt.

He focused on the light being expanded out and then quickly curled it up into a pinprick of light. Dean was wholly unprepared for the reaction, he felt himself being hurled forward and then crash landed in a patch of foliage and palm trees about a quarter of a mile down the coast. He groaned, limbs akimbo on the ground and swatted a bright orange flower (that he swore was mocking him) out of his face.

“ _Ohhh_ , that’s going to hurt in the morning.” Balthazar chuckled, sounding delighted, but quieted when Cas gave him a dry look.

Dean walked back over to them, attempting to brush sand out of his hair on the way.

“That fucking sucked.” Dean grouched, picking grass out of his pants pocket. ‘ _How did that get there?_ ’

“To be fair, you’re one of the faster angels I’ve seen. Squat for landing, but fast.”

“So it’s not just me?”

“Oh, no, it’s you. I’ve seen much swifter and he does just fine. Isn’t that right?” He looked at Cas—who smiled softly and shrugged a shoulder—his blue eyes twinkling. “You see, Cassie here is the fastest angel in the garrison. Aside from Gabriel of course, but he also has an extra pair.”

“Is that so? Well, Speedy Gonzales, I’m gonna challenge you on that.” Dean smiled lopsidedly at Cas.

“You should probably stop crashing then.” He quipped back.

Dean huffed out a laugh, “That’s it, chuckles, you are so on.” With that, he was off again. This time he ended up only smashing into two palm trees. ‘ _And I thought airplanes were bad._ ’, he thought as he spit out a mouthful of sand.

 

 

Wings: Dean-[ **http://tinyurl.com/ovyvbhy**](http://tinyurl.com/ovyvbhy)

[ **http://www.animalpicturesdaily.com/falcon-in-flight/** ](http://www.animalpicturesdaily.com/falcon-in-flight/)

Castiel-[ **http://tinyurl.com/kk34u43**](http://tinyurl.com/kk34u43)

Balthazar-[ **http://tinyurl.com/kqt5upd**](http://tinyurl.com/kqt5upd)

[ **http://tinyurl.com/labvgqy** ](http://tinyurl.com/labvgqy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time deciding on whether I wanted celestial wings (because they are celestial energy) or bird species wings. I probably sat for like two hours trying to decide. When I thought of bird wings my mind immediately went to Balthazar with owl wings (though I also considered something flamboyant like parrot wings ;P) and then that’s all I could think about so I went with that. Then I had to research birds and look at their wings to see what I wanted specifically for each angel. : | Had I gone with celestial wings, Dean’s would have had blue lights, Cas cerulean, and Balthazar magenta.  
> I also had to consider whether they were corporeal or not but there was one episode where Dean had angel feathers in the trunk of the Impala, so that solved that.


	8. We Don't Talk About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean acknowledges the pink elephant in the room.

Dean shook sand out of his shoe, sitting on the steps of the small back porch of the house. By that afternoon he had finally managed to quit face-planting, though not before Gabriel showed up, holding up a large white card with a red ’10.0’ printed on it after Dean had gotten acquainted with more of the local flora.

Out of the silence his phone vibrated through his pocket against the wooden porch, making a loud sound.

**Charlie: So how’s being an angel working out?**

**Dean: I have sand in places that have no business having sand in them.**

**Charlie: Wow, overshare much~**

**Dean: Hey, you asked.**

**Charlie: I was kind of hoping for more ‘I can do all this badass stuff’ and less ‘I have chafing in the bad place’. ;P**

Partway through shaking out his other shoe, Dean grinned before responding.  

**Dean: I can fly, does that count as badass stuff?**

Dean got a reply with a picture message attached.

**Charlie: Um, hells yes!**

Attached was a picture of Charlie holding her hand up for a high-five. Hesitating before sighing in defeat, Dean mimicked her pose, smiling and holding his hand up for the picture.

**Dean: I think this is officially the gayest thing I’ve done.**

**Charlie: You mean besides Castiel, right? ;)**

Dean choked and quickly closed out of the message as if it was going to announce itself to the whole world, his cheeks bleeding red. He wasn’t going to touch that message with a ten foot pole. Though being silent was probably an admission in itself, but better people think you may or may not be a little—that’s his story and he was sticking to it—gay for your best friend, than to open your mouth and prove it.

 

“Shoot!”

Sam looked up from where he was trying to help Kevin figure something out.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I may have misjudged. I said-,” Charlie glanced at Kevin and then motioned for Sam to come over. He went over and bent down so she could whisper in his ear. Sam laughed when she finished speaking and looked at her.

“Uh, yeah, that’s kind of the pink elephant in the room that we don’t talk about.”

Kevin took a bite of his burrito and turned to the two. “You’re talking about Dean and Cas, aren’t you?”

Charlie and Sam spoke at the same time, “No.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow and took another bite of his burrito before shaking his head and turning back to the tablet.

 

Closing the back door behind him, Dean made his way up the hall, floorboards creaking under bare feet.

“Hey Cas, I’m gonna take a shower so if you need to use the bath-,” He trailed off, taking in the scene before him. Cas stood in front of a blender, his face and upper torso—along with some of the kitchen—was spattered with pieces of cherries and cherry juice. His blue eyes were wide in surprise and lips slightly parted, he startled and looked at Dean when he spoke.

“I’m…not sure what happened. I pressed the button and it erupted. It was very violent.” A glop of cherry dripped from Cas’ hair, as if to demonstrate the point.

Dean’s bit his lip and clenched his eyes shut, his shoulders shaking before he tipped his head back and a laugh bubbled up, hands over his stomach.

Cas strode over to him and gripped the collar of his over-shirt, eyes trained on him, “I need your help, Dean.”

He stopped laughing and looked at Cas, breath huffing out as he almost broke out into another peel of laughter. “Yeah, I can see that.” His eyes took in Cas’ disheveled appearance, the red staining his pale skin and, for just a brief moment, a feeling of something extending beyond affection flickered up before Dean shoved it back down to oblivion. “Let’s get this cleaned up.” He smiled stiffly, picking out a piece of cherry from Cas’ dark hair before stepping around him and into the kitchen.

“I still don’t understand what went wrong.”

“You’re supposed to use a lid when using a blender. It should be in the cabinet somewhere. What were you making, anyways?”

“I was attempting to make a pie in an endeavor to see why you are so fond of them.”

‘ _God. Damn it._ ’

 

Dean told Cas to go take a bath while he finished cleaning up. Giving the counter one last swipe with the rag he threw it in the sink. Sitting down on the sofa in front of his laptop he gnawed his lip nervously before he opened it up, clicking on Charlie’s screen name on skype.

**PieHunter: If I tell you something, you promise not to tell anyone?**

**TalkNerdy2Me: X my heart! What’s up?**

Dean gnawed at his thumbnail as he tried to figure out what to say.

**PieHunter: Nvm.**

**TalkNerdy2Me: For such a brave dude, you’re kind of a chicken when it comes to feelings.**

**PieHunter: Yeah, I know. It’s just a little hard going from tits and ass to wings and…a name that rhymes with ass.**

**TalkNerdy2Me: You mean the one that starts with a C and ends in an astiel~? >:3 lol**

**PieHunter: Shut up!**

**TalkNerdy2Me: It must be awfully cramped in there.**

**PieHunter: In where?**

**TalkNerdy2Me: That closet you’re camping out in. ;P**

Dean puffed up, glaring at the screen, his fingers punching harshly at the laptop keys.

**PieHunter: I’m not gay, damn it! It’s just…it’s just him, okay? And I’m really not comfortable with this at all but I needed to vent to someone before it came out in a…less healthy way. I figure if I can count on anyone to not judge me on this it’d be you.**

**TalkNerdy2Me: Aww~ I’m touched. : ) You’re like the emotionally retarded brother I never had. But seriously, if you ever need to talk, I’m here.**

**PieHunter: Last I checked, I haven’t sprouted ovaries. I think I’ll be good. I just needed to tell someone. I think he’s out of the shower now so I’m gonna go.**

**TalkNerdy2Me: Ciao~…and you should have joined him. ;3**

**PieHunter: _Charlie_.  >: (**

**TalkNerdy2Me: J/k~ Night!**

Dean had just stepped into the stream of hot water when he felt something poking at the edge of his consciousness. His hand paused in the middle of scrubbing his chest, the suds dripping down his muscled abdomen. Passing it off as his imagination, he continued cleaning the grit of the sand off his skin. Not much later he heard a voice in his head and he stood stock still.

‘ _I’m assuming this works since you’ve got frequent flyers miles now._ ’

“Crowley?!” Dean pulled back the curtain swiftly and peaked around it, angry expression falling into confusion as he was all alone in the steamy bathroom. “What the hell?”

‘ _You wanted to know how to stop Abaddon? I’m ready to tell you how. But only you, no one else. This message is for_ you alone _. You know where I’ll be._ ’

Dean swallowed and pulled the curtain forward, washing himself now with hurried movements.

 

Dean stepped out of the bathroom, going over by the door and pulling his shoes on.

“Where are you going?”

He slipped on his jacket and turned to Cas, offering a smile as he lied through his teeth. “Pie.” Shutting the door behind him and striding down the steps he took off in a flutter.

Cas felt an uneasy knot forming in his stomach from Dean’s smile. It hadn’t reached his eyes and they had looked unusually guarded, giving Cas the impression that he was hiding something.

 

“Alright dickbag, I’m here.”

“Oh good, you got my call. I wasn’t sure if you would.” Crowley laced his fingers together on the table top and smirked up at Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of Dean and Charlie being BFFs. I could have just had them talking on the phone, but then I wouldn’t get to make up silly screen names. Plus I feel like Dean would be more comfortable typing things out than saying them…that and he would be terrified that Cas would overhear him if he called Charlie~


	9. Two Ways to Skin a Hellhound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me simplify it for your thick skull. I don’t have the power, but an angel in my position would have more than enough. An angel, just like dear old dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the last part of this doesn’t seem janky. >_>; I can never tell~

“So what’s the deal here? Why all the secrecy?” An uneasy feeling settled in his gut, something familiar when it came to dealing with Crowley. He never knew if he was going to get the human side of him that decided to play nice or the side that catered to his demonic nature.

“Because if your brother were here he’d whine and moan and you wouldn’t even remotely consider my proposal.”

“Which is?”

“You seal Hell.” He smiled sharkishly.

“Except there was the part where we already tried that, in case you forgot, and it almost killed Sam.” Dean flashed back to the trials, how they had ground down his brother until it had almost killed him. He never wanted to see his brother like that again. He could handle himself coming apart at the seams, but not Sammy— _never_ Sammy—never again. 

“There’s more than one way to skin a hellhound, Winchester.”

"Then why isn’t it written on the demon tablet?”

“Because why write down the implausible? You see, Hell can be sealed by its king.”

“So are you offering to seal it?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous. Even I lack the juice for that.” Crowley tilted his head back, a spark in his eyes as he said the next part lightly. “You don’t though.”

Dean’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Let me simplify it for your thick skull. I don’t have the power, but an angel in my position would have more than enough. An angel, just like dear old dad.”

“So you’re saying you want to make me king? Of hell? And I’m supposed to just, what, trust that if I make a deal like that with you that you’ll follow through?” He wasn’t liking the sound of this at all. The last time he made a deal with a demon he had wound up as dog food. Plus, him, king of hell? Surely he was having some sort of screwed up dream.

“This isn’t that kind of deal, squirrel. I don’t want your soul, I want your blood. Well, Kevin’s to be more exact. I want to be human.”

“Why? So you get to walk out of this untouched?” It dawned on Dean that if Crowley was human, he wouldn’t get sealed up in the pit.

“Of course. Think about it, if I’m human I can’t screw you over after the fact.”

“Yeah, only problem being that I become the ultimate evil.” Seriously though, the king of hell? He tried to puzzle out in his head how he could go from once being the righteous man and the proposed vessel for Michael, to being the proposed ruler over all things gnarled and nasty.

“Oh please, it’s not like the position changes you. You’ll still be you. Otherwise I wouldn’t be making this deal.”

“That’s the thing, why _are_ you making this deal? Am I supposed to believe it’s out of the goodness of your heart?” ‘ _When pigs fly._ ’, Dean thought to himself.

Crowley’s expression turned bitter and his eyes dark, words laced heavily with venom. “Because I meant it when I told that _wretch_ Abbadon that she was going to burn. She’s like a child without a curfew and I want to see her put on a short leash until she chokes. I may not be able to do it, but I know you can.”  

Dean paced around the room, his arms folded over his chest. A way to seal hell was being offered up to him on a silver platter. Several thoughts were flitting around in his head. Would he be able to command other demons to stand down like Crowley once had from them? Once he sealed it they would never have to worry about them again and only have to focus on the angels running amuck. But at what cost? He could envision Sam’s disappointment in him if he took the deal. And Cas? He could only imagine how angry he would be with him after all the crap he gave him when _he_ had saddled up with Crowley.

“So what’s your answer?”

He stopped walking and turned around. “You know what? No. Because I know there’s a catch and I’d get screwed over somewhere in this. It’s just too easy otherwise.”

“I hardly said it would be easy. Word spreads quick underground and you bet your arse Abbadon would want to carve a piece out, not to mention any ugly you put back in the hole. Though by fear alone I would imagine you would have the majority of hell’s horde at your disposal. Demons tend to have a strong sense of self preservation.”

“Whatever Crowley, my answer still stands.” He could not do this. He had a habit of sacrificing himself for the greater good and it had always gone south, so maybe it was time that changed.

Crowley snorted lightly, “Suit yourself. But you’ll be back.” He smiled smugly.

With that, Dean flew off, leaving Crowley to his musings.

 

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his bed, the sheets tangling around his limbs as he rolled over for the umpteenth time. Despite no longer needing it as an angel, he was damn determined to go to sleep. All he wanted was a reprieve from the thoughts rolling around in his head. He sighed and rolled onto his back, staring at the white ceiling.

The floor was cool on Dean’s bare feet as he walked into the study, boxers hung low on his hips. He figured since he couldn’t sleep, he could at least put his mind to something. Though what, he wasn’t sure. He stalked over to the desk, running his fingertips over the top of it, the finish slick against his skin. His movement halted as an idea popped into his head. Slipping two of his fingers under the edge of the desk, Dean pressed his tongue to the corner of his mouth and lifted up. The desk raised up off the floor and he didn’t even feel a tug in his muscles. Not that that should have been surprising, considering he’d once seen Cas shift an anvil. He moved to shift it up higher and-

“Oh shit!” He wasn’t used to the new muscle and accidentally tipped it. The desk flipped over with a loud crash and he cringed, pulling his arms in tight. He was in the middle of putting the desk in an upright position when he heard a voice behind him.

“Dean?”

“Huh?” He turned around to see Cas standing just around the corner, his angel blade held tight in his hand. “Yeah, it’s me, sorry.”

Cas groaned, relaxing and rubbing a hand through his dark hair, eyes sleepy. “What are you doing?”

“I was just…giving the desk a lift.”

Cas closed his eyes and opened his mouth, reopening his eyes again before he spoke, “Why are you giving the desk a lift at four in the morning?”

Dean looked slightly embarrassed, “I couldn’t sleep?”  He turned his head a bit and grinned brightly at Cas.

“I’m…going back to bed now.” Cas motioned down the hall with his angel blade.

“Right. Um,” Dean cleared his throat. “Sorry Cas!”

 

The bathroom door opened and Dean stepped out, a towel around his waist. Cas had asked him earlier why he had needed to shower again so soon and had gotten an ‘I’m bored.’ in response.

Naturally, this is when Balthazar appeared in their living room. He raised a blonde eyebrow when he spotted Dean, but otherwise showed no other surprise.

“Don’t you guys ever knock?”

“No. Why would we? Now let’s go.” Balthazar closed the distance and went to clap a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Hold up! I’m naked!”

“Yes, dully noted. Let’s go.”

“Just hold your damn horses!” Dean put his hands up, but quickly dropped them down when the towel started to slip. “I’m going to go put clothes on before you zap me anywhere.”

“Oh for Heaven’s sake.” Balthazar poked him and Dean was suddenly dressed. “Now can we please go if you’re finished being a blushing school girl?”

“You’re a...blushing…school girl.” In retrospect, he hadn’t really thought that insult through.

Dean blinked and the three of them were standing in a field, large trees surrounding it on all sides.

“For today’s lesson, we are teaching you to see.”

“Huh? I can see just fine, thank you.”

“Not _properly_. I mean seeing souls. Human, angel, and demon. You can’t get the jump on enemies if you don’t know who’s who.”

“And uh, how do I flip that switch?”

Balthazar crossed his arms over his chest and tapped the fingers of his right hand against his lip. “How do you expand your wings?”

“I imagine my angel juice—wow, that sounds kind of dirty—and just picture it expanding. Why?”

“Hmm. Then I want you to try that, only imagine it in others.”

Dean looked at Cas and focused on him, staring at the center of his chest. He imagined the blue swirl of lights nested there, curling and uncurling like a heartbeat. He saw little tendrils reaching out from the light and before his eyes a bright burst of rich blue was glowing around—and inside—Cas. He felt almost mesmerized by the light and the warm sensation it seemed to emanate.

“Judging by your enraptured look, I’m guessing you’ve got it?”

“I’m not-“ When had he started smiling? “-enraptured. It’s just new, alright?” Dean turned to give Balthazar a startled look and did a double-take. He tilted his chin down, eyebrows hiked up on his forehead. “That’s different than what I thought it’d be.”

“That’s what they all say.”

He could see the halo above Balthazar’s head, shining brightly. Instead of being completely horizontal like he thought it would be, it was tilted back slightly, parallel with the crown of his head. It was a thin strip of what Dean could only describe as pure light, roughly a foot in diameter.

“I thought it was going to be-“          

“Let me guess, a little gold ring?”

Dean coughed, “No.”

 

Balthazar was in the middle of trying to teach Dean to summon his angel blade when Dean’s ringtone started up. Sam’s number was flashed up on the screen and he scrambled to accept the call.

“Hello?”

Cas and Balthazar watched as Dean’s face pinched and he started gnawing nervously at his lip. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be right over.” He ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “That was Sammy. I’m going to have to take a rain check on this lesson. There’s a demon attack going on right now. We need to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a weird habit (though I’ve mostly fixed it) of picturing Dean in all white—normal clothes he wears, just white—when I picture him in some angel scenes. I had to remind myself that being an angel isn’t some magical school girl transformation. Now that you all have that mental picture, thanks for reading lovelies~ : )


	10. Enter the Red Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, look at the baby angel, trying to protect you. You couldn’t smite a paper bag.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really do appreciate everyone who takes the time to read this. : )

Dean and Balthazar dropped Cas off at the bunker and picked up Sam and Garth before flying to the town. Sam had explained on the phone that a group of demons had stormed the town led by Abbadon.

The air was cold and snow fell from the clouded sky, an inch of snow already coating the ground. They could see their breaths hanging heavily in the air as they walked into the town. The buildings were close together, frost cloying to their glass windows.

“I don’t like this.” Sam said, regarding the scene before them. They expected chaos, but everything was completely silent. Not a single person walking the streets in the middle of the day.

“Something like the Croatoan virus maybe?” Dean gripped his gun tight while he looked around, the metal pressed hard against his skin. The snow crunched beneath his boots as he walked further down the sidewalk.

As they walked further into town they eventually saw where some of the people had gone. A trail of bodies led to a large building, their blood a stark contrast against the white snow.

 

The building was quiet and dingy inside, the walls stained with smoke. They walked in and the only way to go was down one long hall with a set of double doors at the end. They approached cautiously and slowly opened the doors. The hinges of the doors were stained with rust and groaned loudly as they were shifted. In the room before them were the townspeople and Dean could see them. Every single one of them was possessed by a demon. He could see Abbadon standing in front of a door at the far end and she waved before passing through.

“You go to Abbadon. I’ll take on these.” Balthazar stepped forward.

“How are you going to take on all of them?”

“Show them the light of course.” He smirked, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Now hurry.”

 

Dean, Garth and Sam ran into a room at the end of the hall, their weapons aimed at Abbadon perched at the top of a set of stairs. She clapped her hands together in a slow rhythm, a smile on her bright red lips that turned Dean’s stomach.

“Bravo! Bravo boys!”

Dean felt his stomach bottom out as the doors closed behind them. ‘ _Trap._ ’

He stepped ahead of Garth and Sam, putting himself between them and Abbadon.

“Oh, look at the baby angel, trying to protect you. You couldn’t smite a paper bag.” Abbadon waved her hand and pinned the three against the wall.

“What?!” Dean tried to push against the force holding him to the wall, but couldn’t resist it.

“Like I said, baby angel. You’re no more useful than you were as a human. You’ll have to practice a lot more to be better than me. I’ll be happy to give you some incentive though.”

Abbadon pulled a dagger out of the waistband of her pants, the blade glinting in the dull light. “Don’t you touch them!”

“I won’t touch them, but this will.” She brandished the dagger around. Standing in front of Garth she pulled her arm back and plunged the dagger into him with a sickening sound. Dean was only a foot away and could hear the gurgle in his throat.

“No! _No_!” He tried in vain to struggle again, a knot forming in his gut, knowing what was next.

“Dean I-Dean.” Sam’s voice wavered as Abbadon stood in front of him. She smiled, all teeth as she sliced at Sam’s neck, some of the blood flinging against Dean’s cheek with the quick movement. Dean felt the warm blood splatter against his cheek and flinched, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

Dean’s eyes were cold as he looked at her. “Just kill me and get it over with. But don’t think you’ll get away with this.”

“Oh no, I’m not killing you. I think it’s much more cruel to let you suffer, knowing you were too weak to save them. I look forward to seeing you again.” She laughed as she exited the room, her heels clacking on the floor.

Dean slid down the wall and immediately placed his hands on Garth and Sam. “Please, please, please.” He muttered the word like a mantra, eyes glued to Sam. Dean had never healed anyone but he had to try, he had to. They couldn’t die like this, not with him right there. His vision blurred with his tears. “Come on, come on.” Finally, light glowed brightly from his fingertips, mending their skin together and it didn’t stop until their chests rose and fell with their breathing. Dean took Sam in his arms and clung to him tightly, the fabric of his shirt wrinkled under his fingers as he grasped at it. He felt Sam stir into consciousness against him and the tears falling down his cheeks now. “It’s okay Sammy, you’re okay.”

“How?”

Dean smiled tightly, “Me.”

“I’m okay too, thanks for asking.”, Garth sat up groggily from the floor.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder.

At that moment Balthazar appeared in front of them. “Saved the mudfish, smote the demons. How’d it go with-“ he saw the looks from the three of them, “right, she got away then. Of course, I should have known better than to send you alone with a knight.”

“I don’t know why I thought being an angel would make things any different.” Dean pressed his lips tight together, expression bitter.

“It might eventually, with proper training. For now we should go though. No use dwelling on it.”

“Right. Mind giving me a lift too? I think I used all my juice healing them.”

Balthazar sighed exasperatedly, “You people always need something.”

“I just watched people I care about die and had to bring them back. Blow me, Balthazar.”

“No thanks, I’ll leave that to Cassie.” Dean muttered something under his breath and felt his cheeks heat up.

 

Dean sat in a chair in the library, looking at Sam and Garth as they went on as if they hadn’t just been dead not long ago. This was all because of Abbadon, and all those town people were nearly executed. That was just a taste of what would be to come if she took over Hell. Dean swallowed thickly as he got up. He told them he was just going to check in with Crowley, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

His feet felt heavy as he urged them to go, one in front of the other, but he was determined. He had to go through with this. If more people got hurt and he knew he could have prevented it, he didn’t know if he could live with that. He slid the doors open and stepped into the dungeon room, closing the doors behind him.

“You listen to me, I’m going to ask you some questions and you better tell me the truth.”

“Fire away, squirrel.”

“You guarantee that if I do this I’m not going to go darkside?” This was the most important part. If he broke bad there would be no way for him to protect everyone.

“As I said before, you’ll be a hundred percent you. Same eyes, hair, moronic tendencies…you’ll just have a batch of shiny new tricks.”

“How do I seal Hell once I do this?”

“Spell. Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in on the details to make sure you don’t muck it up.”

Dean gnawed nervously as he thought of his next question, sure that he knew the answer already. “When I seal it, do I get sealed in there too?”

Crowley smiled, “The spell seals in all of hell’s denizens.”

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. ‘ _So much for not self-sacrificing._ ’

“It’s a deal.” Maybe for once things would work out this time.

The smile stretched further across Crowley’s lips and his dark eyes sparkled, “Long. Live. The king.”


	11. Sin is in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam pressed his face in his hands and rubbed his fingertips against his eyelids. “I should punch you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought of doing a floor plan of the house that Dean and Cas have been staying in, but I wasn’t sure if it was really needed. I may still, but that day is not today. ;P  
> Love your faces! Thanks to everyone who kudos'd, commented, and bookmarked!

Doing this—becoming the king—Dean knew one thing for certain. He couldn’t hide this. He had made up his mind that he was going to be up front about everything. If he hid it from them and they found out, it would mean he felt guilty and knew what he was doing was wrong. He hoped it would help quell everyone’s unease since he felt comfortable enough to admit to the fact, though he wasn’t really comfortable at all. Truthfully, he would be more comfortable sitting on a cactus than he would telling this to everyone.

It was nightfall and he found Sam in his room. The door was open and Dean knocked on the doorframe, causing Sam to look up at the sharp noise.

“Hey Sammy, you free to talk?” He stepped into the room, looking at the few sparse pieces of furniture and belongings, fingertips grazing over boxes.

Sam’s tone was hesitant when he responded, “Yeah, what’s up?”

Dean licked his lip and fiddled with the handle on one of the drawers on the dresser while he gathered his thoughts. Which was apparently taking too long because Sam cleared his throat behind him. “Dean?”

He rocked up on the balls of his feet and puffed out a breath. “Okay, don’t freak out-“

“Don’t say that. The last time you said that you died and were resurrected as an angel.”

“Right, good point.” He cleared his throat before carrying on, “What I mean is that I want you to keep a level head. I know coming from me that’s a little hypocritical, but I need you to trust me.”

“That depends on what this is. Just tell me what you’re talking about!”

Dean stepped over to him and put his hands on his shoulders, staring at him imploringly. “ _Do you trust me?_ ”

Sam looked him in the eyes for a moment before being satisfied with what he saw, sighing and closing his eyes. “With my life.”

Dean let a small smile creep along his lips. “That’s my Sammy.” He stepped back, leaning his hip on a desk, and started explaining the events of the past couple days. Sam interrupted many times and his voice rose a little but, nevertheless, he remained sitting and heard Dean out. “So that’s it. That was the deal. We gotta figure out who to get to do the purification ritual for Crowley though. I mean we need Kevin’s blood, but he can’t actually do it because he’d flip. We just need the blood of a human and one who’s pure to do it.”

“Wait, you’re seriously considering this? How do you know you won’t turn evil?”

This was the part he was really not looking forward to. While Sam had been moderately accepting of his explanation, this was the part in the whole thing that if he was going to flip his shit, it would be here.

“Well.” Dean grinned—with a bit too much enthusiasm that made his face feel awkward—and held his hands out to his sides. “I seem alright, right?”

“You don’t mean…? Did you already do it? Just like that?”

“Yes? Though it wasn’t all that easy. We had to sacrifice a hellhound and an old pagan god and recite a spell, but yes.” ‘ _Man, that was a bitch._ ’ Naturally, it was only after the fact, that Crowley informed him the pagan god spat as a defense mechanism. Dean had returned, complaining, wet, and with slimy mucus dripping off of himself, getting a reply of ‘Oh yes, they do that. Forgot to mention it.’ ‘ _Asshole._ ’

“And you didn’t think to maybe tell me this before you did that?”

“No, and here’s why. If you had asked if I would be okay, I wouldn’t have been able to give a sure answer. But this way, we know.”

Sam pressed his face in his hands and rubbed his fingertips against his eyelids. “I should punch you.”

“Yeah, but you’d just hurt your hand.”

He watched as Sam got up and walked over to him, but instead of striking him, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “This is the craziest, stupidest thing you’ve ever done, but I trust you. I don’t like it, but you came to me and that means something.”

Relief flooded through Dean and he hugged him back. “Thank god, cause I don’t know if I could do this alone.” He patted him firmly on the back before stepping away. “Can you do me a favor and tell everyone here? I still need to go tell Cas.” Just thinking of that replaced the momentary relief with a nervous energy.

Sam made a face at the mention of telling Cas—a face that, Dean was pretty sure, meant he was constipated—and replied. “Yeah, sure, I can do that. Good luck.”

“I’m going to need it.” Dean let out a bitter laugh and rubbed a hand through his hair before flying to the house he and Cas had been sharing.

           

Dean arrived in the living room of the house and spotted Cas in the kitchen standing in front of the microwave, waiting for it to go off. Seeing him frayed his nerves and made his stomach roll.

Cas turned around when he heard Dean groan from behind him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes…not really, no.” He walked over to the kitchen counter and sat down on a stool, gesturing for Cas to do the same. He could feel his eyes on him and it made him feel worse. He didn’t want to see the disappointment and anger in them after he told him the news.

Dean tore off a corner of a paper towel and scrunched it between his fingers as he told Cas everything. He could feel his heart rate building with his anxiety and didn’t dare look up at Cas. “-and it’s risky but I’m fine. I know you’re probably angry because I was pissed at you when you made a deal with him but I’m sure that this will work out.”

“So was I, Dean, and you saw what happened to me!” Cas snapped at him, his tone sharp in the quiet house.

“But this is different! I’m not trying to become a new God and I’m not hiding it from people.”

“Have you told Sam then?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. And you know what? He trusts me.”

“Well I can’t. Not on this. I can’t watch you fall.”

“Cas I’m not-“

“Leave.” His tone was low and even.

“But-“

“Just go!” Dean looked at him then and could see the stormy intensity in his eyes, his jaw set tight. As he had thought, there was anger, but also some other emotion that Dean couldn't place. One look was all that was needed to shred his insides, leaving him feeling bruised and hurt.

“As you wish.” Dean pushed all the emotions off his face and—without another word—he left, leaving Cas all alone in the empty kitchen. Cas pressed his palms to his eyes, feeling them sting beneath his hands and he swallowed around the knot in his throat, letting out a wet, shuddering breath. He felt angry because Dean was being reckless but, more than that, he was terrified. Terrified that things were going to fall apart and he would lose the person, the being, that mattered most to him.

 

This was how Dean wound up on the floor of the bunker’s bathroom, hugging the toilet. ‘ _This king of hell thing is going great so far. Not even a day in and I’m praying to the porcelain gods._ ’ After he left the house he had made up his mind that he was going to get drunk which, admittedly, was really hard to do as an angel. He may have been a little overzealous, however, and he was now wondering if angels could get alcohol poisoning. He was in the middle of throwing up again when Sam walked in.

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“What does it look like Sa-“, Dean stopped talking to try and swallow down some of the bile, “-Sammy? I’m smashed.”

“No, I mean with Cas.”

Dean groaned at hearing his name and rested his cheek against the toilet lid, enjoying the coolness of it against his skin. “I don’t even want to think about it. He-ohhh not aga-“, Dean turned his head and threw up again. Spitting and waiting a few seconds to collect himself, he continued to speak. “He fucking hates me.”

Sam rubbed soothing circles against Dean’s back. “He doesn’t hate you, he’s just angry.”

“He told me to leave, and his eyes-oh Sammy-his eyes. I’m…I’m…I’m gonna throw up.” Sam crinkled his nose as he watched his brother double over again. “Man, you’re a wreck. You really do care about him, don’t you?”

“ _No._ ” Dean looked away, sadness brimming along his words. “It doesn’t matter, not anymore. Not that it ever did.”

“Maybe you should try to make it up to him? Like do something nice for him.”

“Oh yeah, and while I’m at it, I’ll play Hungry Eyes and we’ll make pottery together.” Dean snarked crankily.

“Dude, those are different movies.”

“And I’m supposed to be the one that likes a dude?” Dean’s head was fuzzy and he wasn’t entirely aware of what he was saying.

“You are _so_ drunk right now. How much did you have to drink?”

“So many.”

Sam made a face and shook his head, gently patting Dean on the back. He wasn’t even sure that his brother would remember this conversation in the morning. He did know that he would probably be expressly forbid to ever bring it up. Dean’s feelings, period, were a taboo subject, let alone feelings involving a certain somebody with blue eyes. Sometimes, Sam thought to himself, Dean made him want to pull his hair out. But, that’s what family was for…that, and carrying your unconscious body to bed when you pass out on the bathroom floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By this point in the story, I’m not even I’m halfway through yet (I don’t think). So many ideas left!...and also smut~ I’ve had to slap my wrist a couple times already to keep from putting it in earlier. XD


	12. Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the life of him, Crowley couldn’t remember why he had decided this was what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always appreciate you reading~ Yes you!

When Dean woke up the next morning his mouth felt like cotton and his head was a little woozy. Thankfully, he didn’t feel as bad as he thought he should, which was probably his angel mojo kicking in. He gulped down the glass of water that Sam—bless him—had left for him on the desk. Dean was just sitting up and dropping his legs over the side of the bed when Balthazar appeared before him, his owl wings spread wide and eyes sharp.

“What did you do, you fool?”

Dean groaned and tipped back his head, looking at the ceiling before dropping his gaze back down to Balthazar. “Now what?”

“I was just at the house because I mistakenly thought you would be there. What did you do to Cassie?” He had arrived in the living room and found Cas, hunched over and sleeping against the kitchen counter, the skin under his eyes dark. When he shook him awake, the sadness in his eyes rubbed him wrongly. His friend was supposed to be strong and courageous, not this small, broken thing before him. If he ever had to see him like that again it would be too soon.

Hearing that Cas was still taking it badly made Dean’s stomach churn with guilt.

“I didn’t _do_ anything to him. I-“, Dean closed his eyes and exhaled a slow breath through his nose, “I made a deal with Crowley to become the king of hell so I could seal it, okay? I told Cas and he told me to fuck off.”

For once, Balthazar was momentarily stunned into silence. He wasn’t sure what to think about his admission. On one hand, sealing hell was a monumentally good thing, on the other, he felt sympathy for his friend for—surely—Dean’s choice would likely end in his demise. It wasn’t much of a stretch to draw to that conclusion. “One slip up, and know this, I will tear you apart.”

“If I do, I’m counting on it. But I need to hold off on the training for a few, I still have another part of the deal to fulfill. It’d help if you stuck around until we get it figure out.”

Balthazar sneered at him, “ _Naturally_.”

 

When Dean walked into the library Kevin got up jerkily from the table and he could see the anger on his face.

“So let me get this straight, you agree to a deal with Crowley to use _my_ blood to cleanse him without even asking me?!”

“I know, _I know_. But we won’t even need you to do the ritual, we can have someone else do it. I know it sucks but think about it Kevin, if we turn him human, he can’t hurt or manipulate _anyone else_. Please? I’m begging you here, man.”

Kevin looked like he wanted to hit Dean (there seemed to be a lot of that going around) before he put his hands down. “Fine. So long as he’s no longer a threat I can handle that.”

“Now we just need to find someone to do the ritual.” Dean was pretty sure he couldn’t do it, otherwise Crowley would have mentioned it. Being the king of hell would probably ruin that whole pure thing. Sam couldn’t do it because it would be completing the third trial. Dean stilled and slowly turned towards Balthazar.

Balthazar scowled heavily, “Great, now it appears that I’m purifying a demon. I should have stayed in Vegas.”

“Hell, I don’t care where you do it. You know what they say-“

“If you say ‘What goes on in Vegas, stays in Vegas” I’ll rip your small intestine out through your nose.”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Balthazar went to retort but aborted it with a frustrated noise. “Just get me the damned blood and tell me what to do so I can get this over with.”

 

Balthazar walked into the room with Dean and Sam behind him. Crowley raised an eyebrow and huffed out a laugh, “What’s David Bowie doing here?”

“Are you sure I can’t smite him instead?”

“A deal’s a deal. Just make sure you-“

“Oh sod off.” Balthazar made shooing motions towards them over his shoulder. “It’s not my first spell.” He looked behind him a few seconds later. “Well? And close the bloody doors.”

Crowley listened to their footsteps get farther away until the door of the outer room closed. “So are you the Winchester’s new whipping boy?”

“Hardly, I’m more the chaotic neutral type. Though truly, I think that’s your current position. Being their new whipping boy, I mean.” Balthazar opened the mat containing the syringes full of Kevin’s blood needed for the ritual. While he was pulling one out and inspecting it, he asked Crowley, “Tell me, are you a top or bottom? A power-bottom, perhaps?”

Instead of dropping his smirk, it got wider and he raised his eyebrows in astonishment, “My, you’ve got a mouth on you, angel.”

“And oh what a mouth it is.” Balthazar jabbed the needle into Crowley’s neck rough enough for him to complain. “Definitely a bottom.” Crowley glared at him, eyes squinting. “Feisty.”

“Did it hurt?” Crowley snarked at him.

“Did what hu-…” his meaning dawned on Balthazar and he looked at Crowley flatly, pressing his lips into a thin line, “Oh you’re a _cheeky_ one.” Balthazar picked up the paper with the instructions off of the table. “When do I get to stab you again?”

“You can stab me right now, if you’d like.”

Balthazar snorted, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly.

           

At the eighth hour, Balthazar primed the last needle, Crowley was already completely different than how he’d encountered him earlier. Crowley looked up at him with sad, dark eyes.

“This is it.”

When Crowley tilted his head, he could see a tear streak down his cheek. Balthazar couldn’t explain why, but he pressed his fingers that weren’t holding the needle gently to his head as he pushed the syringe into his neck.

Like a flood breaking through a levee, every bad deed and regret fell from Crowley’s lips. Some compassionate part of Balthazar felt for the shattered, sobbing creature before him. Confession after confession flowed from him. When he had finished lamenting, Balthazar squeezed the blood out from the last syringe into his hand and pressed it against Crowley’s mouth. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, hanc animam redintegra, lustratus! Lustratus!” There was a bright light that pulsed through him, and then the ritual was complete, Crowley was now completely human.

Balthazar unlocked the collar from around Crowley’s neck, who was sniffling, wiping at his face with his handkerchief, doing his best to try and pretend he hadn’t just bared his soul and fallen apart. Crowley stood up and took small, measured steps to the edge of the devil’s trap. Staring down at the circle, it was hard to gauge what was going through his mind before he slowly stepped out of it, breath hitching as he did so. Crowley made a frustrated, somewhat strangled noise as he wiped at his eyes. “This stupid meat suit must be defective, it keeps leaking.”

Balthazar disappeared before coming back a few seconds later, holding out a bottle of scotch to Crowley. “Congratulations on being human.”

“Your congratulations can screw off…I will take the scotch though.” Crowley sniffled again as he grabbed the bottle.

 

It wasn’t until the next day, sometime after noon, that the rest of them saw Crowley. He walked into the library with aviators on.

“Well, if it isn’t captain douchebag, wearing sunglasses inside.”

“I’ve got a bloody hangover…though at this point I’m not entirely sure if it’s from the scotch or the humanity.”

For the life of him, Crowley couldn’t remember why he had decided this was what he wanted.

 

Crowley had returned to one of his houses—one that he hadn’t occupied while being a demon, to attempt staying under the radar—and was sitting behind a desk, his feet propped up as he watched a large flat screen tv in the corner. He almost choked on his drink when Balthazar materialized in the center of the room.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“I felt like it.” Balthazar shrugged, his stance relaxed.

“You could have knocked. It’s rude to barge in. Didn’t your father ever teach you better?”

Balthazar looked at the tv and did a double-take. “Is…is that you?”

Crowley hummed, taking another drink, the ice rattling in the glass. “I think that was one of my better deals.”

“You made a deal to be on a tv show?” Balthazar looked at him incredulously.

“What?” Crowley’s voice pitched up slightly. “It was popular and I wanted to be in it.” He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up. “I just added a role in the show on as an addendum to the normal soul contract.”

“Why on Earth is there a phone booth in the room?”

“It’s a spaceship.” A spaceship, of course it was a spaceship, how silly of him.

Balthazar furrowed his eyebrows before materializing a chair opposite Crowley at the other side of the desk and sat down, propping his feet up and mirroring him, eyes on the tv.

Crowley stared at him and scowled. “Just make yourself at home, why don’t you.”

“I did.” Balthazar sunk down further in the chair, the leather creaking as he did so, and laced his fingers over his stomach. His response drew an eye roll from Crowley before he resumed watching the show. ‘ _A couple nights ago I was king of hell, and tonight, I’m watching the tele with an angel._ ’

“I don’t suppose you would pick up some Chinese takeout while you’re here?” He kept his eyes to the tv as he asked.

“I would rather babysit the Winchesters. I can still smite you, you know.”

Crowley smiled as he spoke, “Promises, promises.” He thought he could have worse company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I-I don’t know why I had Crowley call him David Bowie…I guess his v-neck, jacket, and tight pants make me think of Jareth from Labyrinth (and the owl wings…I hadn’t even thought of that before. What is my subconscious doing?). Lol  
> And we are going to pretend that the bunker is consecrated ground~ *cough*  
> I hope you guys enjoy Balty & Crowley banter as much as I do. :3 Also, yeah, you know what show they’re watching. ;P


	13. Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “God, you Winchesters and your drama.” Balthazar rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “Always thinking of the morality of things. Just bloody well do it and be done with it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was later posting than usual, and I wish I had a good reason, but it was because I was writing Balthazar/Crowley (surely there’s a shorter way to say that? But I guess not b/c their names are both uncommon…maybe I should just call it Jefferson Starship.) smut? Originally I couldn’t even see them doing things—cept the obvious given that it’d be pretty kinky—and then that happened. I probably won’t even post it…I don’t know how it happened. Lol I don’t even…so I’m sorry about that. XD

As it turns out, trying to summon an angel blade was much more difficult than Dean thought it would be. He had tried everything from imagining his grace moving towards his hand, to jazz hands. He was in the middle of mimicking Spiderman—hey, it was worth a shot—when Gabriel popped in on his lesson.

“…did I catch you at a bad time?”

“I’m trying to summon my damned angel blade. Maybe I just don’t have one? I can always just use the one I carry around. I don’t understand why it’s so important that I can summon my own.”

“Because it can’t get taken by an enemy and there’s a greater chance to take someone by surprise. I know you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but do try to think.”

“Not to mention if you’re ever caught naked you still have a weapon. Never know when someone will decide to ambush you in the shower and go all Psycho on your ass.”

“Thank you for that image, Gabriel.” Balthazar gave him a suffering look.

“Anytime, little bro.”

“That’s great and everything, but I still can’t get the thing to come out and play. So unless you have any pointers, maybe we should move onto something else.”

Gabriel clapped his hands together, “I’ve got an idea. Be back in two shakes.” He disappeared and came back, but this time he wasn’t alone.

“Who the hell is that?”

“Demon. That’s all you need to know.”

The demon with Gabriel snarled at Dean, a guttural, rough sound. “You! You parade around as if you are king, you are nothing!” The demon jerked in Gabriel’s hold.

Angel training had not been the only thing that Dean had been focusing on. Whenever he wasn’t having sessions with Balthazar he was spending time organizing things for the spell to seal Hell—which surprisingly, Crowley was still helping him with—or strengthening his hold on demons. He had the majority of them behind his beck and call, ruled by their fear. Maybe not loyal, but they were a strong force behind him, and that was all he could really expect. Though like this demon before him, there were those more loyal to Hell itself and trying to bring it to the surface of the earth. Those were the ones that allied with Abaddon, the self-appointed agent of chaos. Just thinking of her and what she did set his blood on fire.

The demon cackled, “Oh, if your father could see you now. He would be _so_ proud, his son, turned into the very thing you hunt.”

Dean’s jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark with anger.

“And your mother!”, they mock-gasped, “What would she think of her dear baby boy? She would be-“

Dean surged forward, a cold weight settling against his palm as he plunged the angel blade into the demon, its words halting on a pained gurgle as it was purged from its body.

The three of them stood in an uncomfortable, tension filled silence. Balthazar and Gabriel were unsure of what to say and Dean was trying to soothe the rolling emotions inside of him that threatened to spill out.

“Dean-“

“Don’t.” Dean held up his hand, “Just don’t. Look, I know what I’m doing is wrong, but it’s for the right reasons. I also know that doesn’t make it okay, but I don’t have a choice. And maybe my parents would be disgusted by me right now, but I’m doing this to seal up the same kind of bastards that are responsible for their deaths. I don’t need anyone’s sympathy, alright?”

“Not a problem.”

“God, you Winchesters and your drama.” Balthazar rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “Always thinking of the morality of things. Just bloody well do it and be done with it.”

“Well right now it’s my morality that’s separating me from the demons. Every time I summon one of those bastards I can feel something dark gnawing at me under my skin. If I weren’t so invested in protecting Sammy and everyone else I care about, I don’t know if I would even care to fight that feeling. Without them I would just be another one of those soulless bastards, so let’s just agree that my morality is what’s saving our asses right now.”

He could vividly recall the first time he summoned a demon to him. There was a cold, slick sensation that rubbed against his flesh. It seemed to speak of promises and he knew, without a doubt, that this was sin. This was the feeling that drove people to murder, rape, steal, and every other negative facet of human life. While he was strong and in no way was it capable of making him fall, it still whispered under his skin, calling out from the darkness. This was a reminder that he had things to do in this harried chess game, and he was going to start with the knight.

 

It wasn’t hard to find Abaddon, she left a trail of death and destruction wherever she went because she didn’t feel the need to hide, so Dean knew exactly where to find her. She had the decency to look somewhat surprised when he came strolling into the mansion that she had taken up residence in for the night.

“I like the suit, a little too stuffy though.”

When he was doing things like this he had taken to wearing a black suit with a red tie, it helped him separate himself from being the king of hell.

“I have to admit, I’m a little surprised to see you here. Do you have a death wish? I suppose I could kill you now if you beg nicely.”

“Kill me? I’d like to see you try.”

Anger flashed in her eyes, “You insignificant welp!” She crooked her wrist at him and Dean barely felt a twinge. Frowning in confusion, she flourished her arm at him and again, nothing happened. “What did you do?” He could now see a bubble of panic beneath her expression and it made him happy to see her composure start to crumble. He wanted nothing more than to see her fall apart.

“You could say I’ve taken a higher position.” He raised his right hand in the air and tensed it, flinging Abaddon hard against the wall, the plaster cracking beneath her. She struggled against the invisible binds and hissed, her eyes flashing black. The room vibrated with the harsh energy, but Dean was unmoved by it, clearly having the upper-hand over her. “Your time’s up, Abbadon. There’s a reason why no one has moved to take Hell to earth. We have souls, which means in any struggle, we’re going to come out on top because we have something to fight for. You people, you beings, are all alike. You always think you can takeover mankind because you think you’re better. Well I have news for you, you’re not. We won’t just rollover, we _fight_.” He willed his blade to materialize in his hand and was poised to strike.

“Is that so?” Her expression changed and that infuriating smile spread across her painted lips. “I love a challenge.” Her eyes flickered to the doorway and Dean turned around in time to see a banishing sigil on the door and a nameless demon slap their hand on it. Dean yelled as he was transported away, his nerves flaring up with raw energy.

 

When he came to he was surrounded by trees, spanning out in every direction. He cursed and punched the ground angrily. He had been _so close_. He knotted his fingers in his hair, his eyes closed as he counted slowly backwards from ten. ‘ _It’s alright. It’ll be alright. I’ll get her next time._ ’ looped in his head, calming his anger to a dull thrum.

After standing up he brushed some dead leaves off his slacks before calling out to Balthazar.

“ _Now_ what?”

“I got banished and I have no idea where the hell I am, that’s what. And I’d really just appreciate a straight answer because I am not in a good mood.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Abaddon.” Dean’s dark look was information enough on how that encounter had transpired.

“Fair enough. You are in a forest in Iceland.”

“Is this where all angels go when they’re banished?”

“No, it simply sends us away. There isn’t a particular spot that we get sent. It also keeps us grounded for a while. It’s the angel equivalent of sending a child to their room, if that makes it easier for you to understand.”

“That just pisses me off.” That also gave him a weird mental picture of Abbadon stomping her food and telling Dean to go to his room.

“Now you know how it feels.”

Dean was feeling raw around the edges between the altercation with the demon earlier and then the failed assassination of Abaddon piled on to that. He decided that he deserved some downtime with his favorite geeky redhead.

 

Dean opened the door to Charlie’s room, a phantom breeze blowing against him, jacket waving dramatically and his face set in his best blue steel impression.

“…dude.”

“Too much?”

“Just a little.” Charlie’s nose scrunched and she held her pointer finger and thumb up. “So what brings you to this side of Hogwarts?”

“Hogwhat? This is the batcave.”

“No! You will not ruin my fantasy!”

“What, does Hogwarts have a dungeon?”

“Uh, yeah. If you had read the books you would know that. They teach potions there and that’s where the Slytherin commons are.”

“…does that make Crowley the potions master?”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to make the comparison before she grinned. “Actually, I think he’d be more like the troll.”

Dean laughed heartily at that, “ _Yes_! That is the best comparison I’ve ever heard.”

After talking with her for a while, Dean’s mood had brightened considerably. Charlie, Sam, Kevin, Cas—who he still hadn’t talked to since that night—these were the people he was doing this for. Without them, he didn’t know what he would do with himself.

He and Charlie were in the middle of a conversation about whether he thought a werewolf or a vampire would win in a fight when he got a notice on his phone. His stomach bottomed out when he saw the message flash up on the screen.

Since he had been away he had enabled the gps tracking on Cas’ phone and had it set to notify him if it went outside of a set perimeter. The coordinates were now well away from the house—which the phone had given no travel time—and could only mean one thing.

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

“I gotta go, I think Cas may be in trouble.”

If anyone had hurt him, may God have mercy on them, because he sure as hell wouldn’t.

 

Balthazar popped in to the middle of Crowley’s study who, by this point, was used to the angel doing so and didn’t so much as bat an eye in recognition. He had a book open on his desk and was studying it, more than likely still figuring out the details of the spell to seal Hell.

“Actually drinking something different?” Every other time Balthazar had shown up, Crowley had been drinking whiskey.

“No, I just added coffee to it.”

“Not that I care, but it would be a pity if you died off from liver poisoning before helping to close Hell.”

“Coming from you?”

“It doesn’t bother me in the slightest, I’m an angel.”

“And I’m Irish.”

Balthazar snorted, “Point.” Sighing heavily Balthazar continued on with his main reason for coming, “Dean confronted Abaddon.”

Crowley stilled, “And?”

“He was far stronger than she was, but he got banished with an angel sigil.”

Crowley sighed and rubbed his eyes, “Of course he did. Sometimes I’m surprised the moron can even tie his own shoelaces.” His voice rose towards the end and he picked up his now empty cup and threw it against the wall, the glass shattering. Crowley rubbed his middle finger in slow circles against his left temple, his eyes closed as he tried to ease away an oncoming headache. After a moment he turned his gaze back down to his book. Balthazar spotted dark circles under Crowley’s eyes and noted his slightly less composed attire. Coupling that with the sudden change of beverage and he put two and two together.

“Nightmares?”

Dark eyes moved up to look at him after a beat, “What do _you_ think?” He cast his eyes back down to the ancient pages. “Turns out having a soul isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”, he said softly. 

Balthazar heaved a long suffering sigh before slinking over to his side, “You’re an idiot.”

Crowley made a noise of disagreement, “I beg your par-“ Balthazar cut him off by pressing two fingers to the side of his head, effectively putting him to sleep. He caught his cheek before it landed against the book in front of him. Honestly, some people make things much more difficult than they need to be.

 

When Crowley woke up he was still somewhat groggy. He sat up from his pillow and made a face, wiping at the side of his mouth, surprised to find he had actually drooled in his sleep. He had never done that in his life. Though come to think of it, he hadn’t slept quite so soundly before. He didn’t even remember falling asle-

“Oh you bastard.” There was no real heat to his words and his mouth was quirked up ever so slightly at the corner. Looking down he realized that he had also changed his clothes. He quirked an eyebrow and snorted softly at the cartoonish imps on the pajamas. It was at that time that he heard his phone buzz from the bedside table. Picking it up, he opened the text message from the unknown number to find a picture of himself, dead to the world, and wearing said pajamas.

**_Balthazar: Good morning, sunshine._ **

“ _Bastard._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Start of the chapter felt rough, but I think I managed to fall into my stride. :> Bridging chapters between events is still difficult for me at times. Though I guess it would be since this is only my second time actually writing a fanfic out and the first was like…five years ago. Ahahah->_>;


	14. Hell Hath No Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look, you can be mad at me all you want, but don’t be mad at them. They don’t deserve that and you don’t deserve being left by yourself. Please, I need to know you’re safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry belated Christmas! (Didn’t want to post on Christmas :x) Love you all! Muah!(I won’t take your soul, I swear!)  
> Crowlazar is really growing on me and now I’m torn between how I want it to go. T_T Also, I’ve noticed that most things w/ Crowley have him as the dominant one, whereas I usually see him as the sub one…albeit a feisty one and hardly a mewling quim~

Cas stirred from where he lay on a cold cement floor, his skin sore from where it pressed against the hard material. His forehead ached from where he had been struck and knocked unconscious. He looked around in the large, uncomfortable bright room. The walls were covered in a white plaster and there were thick metal doors—some kind of empty factory. There was a person standing just a few paces behind him and they spoke once they noticed he was awake.

“Castiel, I’m going to skip the pleasantries and get straight to business. Where’s Metatron?”

“Truthfully, I do not know.”

“I think you’re lying. You were the last person to see him, so if anyone from heaven or earth would know, it would be you. Now-“, she gripped his jaw in a harsh grip with her left hand, the nails of her thumb and finger sinking uncomfortably into his skin. “-tell me, or I kill you.”

“Just make it a quick death.”

Her face twisted in anger but fell shortly when an unholy raucous sounded outside, the noise invoking a frantic energy in the air. The windows towards the ceiling were suddenly sheathed with pitch black smoke as the fury of hell was set upon the building. The charged silence hung heavy in the air, as if the disembodied demons outside were waiting with bated breath for another order, like dogs barely restrained on their leashes. Cas and the angel’s gazes shifted from the windows to a set of double doors opposite them when they opened. Cas’ eyes opened wide in surprise, his breath catching.

Black, polished shoes echoed on the floor with even, paced steps. Dean had his hands in the pockets of his black slacks as he strolled across the floor, regarding the pair with sharp eyes. The lights overhead ruptured and burst above him as he passed underneath them. Reaching about halfway across the room he stopped, the tension bearing down on them.

“Who are you?”, the angel implored.

“You know exactly who I am.”, the weight of his eyes never once left her except to flicker down briefly to where Cas kneeled on the floor. The angel caught the look and scrambled forward, knotting her fingers in Cas’ hair, yanking his head back and pressing her blade against his neck.

“If you hurt him-“

“What, you’ll kill me?”, the angel smiled and laughed.

“No, but you’ll _pray_ to God every second of every day that I had.” Dean was smiling as he said it, but it was a malicious, frigid smile that mingled with his cold eyes, his tone simultaneously catching fire to and frosting the air in the room around them. Goosebumps broke out on Cas’ skin, one word passing through his head, ‘ _Wrath._ ’ “You better believe that I’ll devote a special part of my day to bring you your own personal slice of hell.”

The angel’s smile fell into a frown and fear flashed across her eyes.  He could see her confidence unravel, shredded by the power bubbling beneath his skin, and she pulled the blade away.

She attempted to flee, but in a flash Dean had caught her mid-flight. His hand around her throat, he slammed her down into the concrete floor, looking down his nose at her as he plunged his angel-blade into her chest. Her life escaped her in a bright flash, black wings marring the floor beneath her body.

Dean straightened and Cas could see the shadow of his wings cast against the wall, the image leaving Cas awestruck. When he laid his green eyes on him, he could see the ice melting beneath, to be replaced by warmth. He smiled at him and it washed softly over him, “Cas.”

Dean was walking over to him and—Cas hadn’t even noticed—the windows were no longer blacked with smoke. He raised two fingers and touched them softly to the bloody wound on his forehead, coursing light through him and healing the skin. The fingers moved softly down the side of his face before dropped off.

Remembering how they had last parted ways and how Cas probably still felt about everything, the smile took on a hint of sadness. He stepped around him and started walking towards the exit. “I called Sam before I came over here and he’s going to come by, pick you up, and take you back to the bunker.”

“Dean,-“

“No, just-“, he sighed, turning back around to face Cas and running a hand through his hair, “Look, you can be mad at me all you want, but don’t be mad at them. They don’t deserve that and _you_ don’t deserve being left by yourself. Please, I need to know you’re safe.”

“Dean I-“

“Take care, Cas.”, he interrupted, giving him another small smile before flying away.

Cas closed his eyes, feeling alone again. He had wanted to tell him that he wasn’t angry with him, he just wanted him to be safe too. Now he didn’t know if he would ever get the chance.

 

Crowley poured over the book in front of him and double-checked everything he had written down. He was under no delusion that they only had one shot at this spell, there was no do-over if things _didn’t_ go to hell in a hand basket. And by everything unholy, he would be damned—again—if this was going to fail because of him.

He licked his thumb and was about to turn a page when a man threw the door open to his study, a knife in their hand.

“Can I help you?”

“Abaddon has sent me to rip out your spine.” The demon shot him a gleeful grin.

“No preamble or anything, just like that. You lot are all the same.”

“We are demons, we do not need formalities. We do not need a reason to kill, though you have given us one. You still had humanity as a demon and it made you weak. Now you fear us.”

“Yes, I’m just quaking in my silk panties.” Crowley turned back to his list, effectively ignoring the demon’s presence, causing them to scowl.

The demon felt cold wash over him and something block his throat, causing him to gag. It happened a second time and the demon felt the pungent taste of copper on his tongue. That was all the warning he had before a massive amount of blood spilled over his lips and onto the antique carpet under foot.

“You should probably be more careful about leaving bits of your meat suit laying around. You’re also bloody awful at stalking. No tact whatsoever.”

“I don’t-“, the demon paused to heave once more, blood now soaking the floor, “I don’t understand, how?”

Crowley looked up at him now, a wicked smile on his lips, “ _Surprise_. I may not be your king anymore, but I’m one _hell_ of a warlock.”

One final heave and the demon vacated the body, leaving behind a drained corpse.

Crowley picked up his cell and dialed, listening to the pulse of the rings as he waited.

“Crowley?”

“Hello squirrel. I’m going to be relocating shortly, ran into a spot of trouble. I have everything ready for the spell, short of the ingredients but I trust you—actually, no I don’t, forget I ever said that—I trust _Balthazar_ to be able to retrieve them for you.”

“So you’re done? Good, because my grip is starting to slip.” Summoning all those demons had nearly made him sick. He hadn’t anticipated how much it would empower the darkness hiding just under his skin. When he called on them all and commanded them, the slick feeling surged through his veins, kicking up from a whisper to a shout. He had felt himself change, felt the chill of all the seven deadly sins singing their destructive chorus. As long as nothing else like that happened, he would be fine, but this had to end soon to ensure that it wouldn’t. If he turned, it would be game over for everyone. “I’ll be over soon.”

The line went dead and Crowley set his phone down, the plastic case clicking against the wood desk. ‘ _If we pull this off, I deserve a bloody fucking medal.’_ Crowley looked at the body on his floor, ‘ _That carpet is ruined._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon=purified Crowley becomes a Warlock, because I really can’t see him being a plain human and it fits so well. I think, anyways. ;P  
> Off topic, but did I ever mention I have a ’67 Impala in the backyard? It runs but no one has driven it for as long as I can remember and it’s not refinished. Though I’d look kind of funny driving it anyways. I’m no Dean~


	15. Parting Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where he would stay, trapped forever. But everyone he cared about was safe, that’s all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of big things in this chapter! Also, take any latin loosely. I used an English to Latin translator and a separate Latin-English translator to verify words.

Dean arrived and started walking towards Crowley before his steps stuttered and he stopped, looked down at his suit—back at Crowley—then back down. ‘ _Son of a bitch. We fucking match. Is there a devil’s dress code or something?_ ’

“Hey Crowley, you know what the difference between me and you is?”

“I put the sin in sensational?”

Dean opened his mouth to say what he was going to and stopped, looking slightly put out before grinning again and responding, “I make this look good.”

“If that’s what you want to call it. Needs to be taken in an inch at the waist and the sleeves are about a quarter of an inch short.”

“Thanks for your critique, Tim Gunn. Now hurry up and give me the instruction manual to shut down the pit.”

Crowley handed him a few pages, “I’ve written everything in order, I even numbered them so that you could follow it better. Now, we are going to go through the pronunciation of the spell.”

Dean snapped at him, “I know how to fucking read.”

Crowley cocked his jaw to the side, pointing to a word on one of the pages, “Ah, then what’s that say then?”

He already knew, when the eldest Winchester’s eyebrows drew together and he looked like he was choking, that he had no idea and he had to restrain himself from either gloating or strangling him. The Winchesters had that effect on him. “Aye-turn-ee-tus.” He sounded like a grade-schooler trying to pronounce a big word.

“Congratulations, you just doomed us all, nitwit.”

“Blow me, Crowley.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough. Now sit down and try not to be hot for teacher.”

 

When they were finished working over the pronunciations, Dean tapped the papers against the palm of his hand. “I don’t suppose you could ask Balthazar to get the stuff? He likes you better.”

Crowley snorted lightly, “Of course he does, he’s a survivalist. He knows you bloody idiots wouldn’t be able to pull this off without me.”

Dean wanted to challenge that remark, but he had another favor to ask of Crowley and he was really hoping he would agree to it. “I have something else to ask.”

“Abaddon.”

“What?”

“You were just about to ask me to distract Abaddon while you’re busy sealing hell, yeah?”

“How the-seriously, you’re not even a demon anymore, how do you know all this crap?”

“Deduction. You can’t take care of her because she’ll just banish you again or put up angel wards, and you can’t seal hell with her taking a strap-on to you. Ergo, you need me to whip her until she says the safe-word.”

“Okay, that was a whole lot of stuff I didn’t _ever_ want to hear, but yeah….so, will you?”

“Gladly. Let’s both hope I’m as clever as I think I am and can _entertain_ her.”

“Right, and uh-thank you, I guess.”

“Of course, like I said, you’d be lost without me.” Dean went to leave and Crowley called out to him. “Oh, and Dean.” Crowley grinned and—Dean swore—it even _looked_ snarky, “Make it work.” Dean left, leaving him a gesture that only required one finger.

 

Balthazar didn’t know how he had gotten caught up in all this. Helping Gabriel, okay, that he didn’t really have a choice with. As jovial as Gabriel seemed, if an archangel told you to fly, you asked how high. He also had healed his wings, so he felt indebted to him. But how he had wound up collecting ingredients for the spell to seal hell, he had no bloody idea. He was trying to figure that out while lifting the top off of a Pharoah’s tomb to steal the femur. He had been talking to Crowley and had somehow wound up here.

Crowley was very good at what he did, Balthazar had to admit. All charm and smooth voice. He could probably—heaven forbid—sale him a Celine Dion CD and he wouldn’t even realize what he had just bought until the wretch’s voice was warbling out through the speakers. Despite himself, he found he actually enjoyed Crowley’s company. Though this would be the last time he got talked into doing something, he thought, as he smote the mummy currently trying its best to choke him.

 

Arriving back at the mansion, Balthazar deposited everything on the table and Crowley began going down the list, checking things off. Reaching the end, he held out his hand pointedly, “Angel feather.”

Balthazar left out a suffering sigh before spreading his wings and carding his fingers through them.  Eventually, a feather came lose, materializing in the air as it was separated from his wing and he placed it in the waiting hand.

Crowley sent Dean a text and he came back to gather all the ingredients. His stomach churned nervously. This was it, there was no turning back after this. He was afraid of the spell failing, but more afraid of doing what he needed to before that. With curt parting words, he left Crowley and Balthazar, depositing the ingredients at the throne room in hell.

 

Telling Sam goodbye, no matter how many times either of them died or thought they were going to die, was never easy. He didn’t mean to let him know that he wouldn’t be coming back from this, but somehow he knew. It was like he took one look at him and saw right through his charade.

By the time he got to Cas he was already feeling raw and exposed. He came into the room, by this time it was night, the sound of his wings sounded quietly in the bunker room. Cas’ eyes snapped up to him and he sat up in bed. Looking at him, Cas felt a panic start to rise up. He was wearing his normal clothes, which should have been a good thing, but for some reason it made him uneasy.

“Dean?”

“Hey.” He was leaning back on a desk, smiling, “I know you’re mad at me, but tonight’s the big night and I just-“ Dean motioned with his hand, not wanting to finish the sentence and not sure how. He walked up to the bedside and startled when Cas jerked forward and wrapped his arms tight around him.

“I’m not mad at you, I’m afraid. Just tell me I don’t have a reason to be scared.”, his voice implored him to say what he wanted to hear. Dean felt his throat go tight, wanting to sooth him, wanting to say a million other things that he couldn’t seem to say right now.

The only thing he could get past his lips was, “Take care of Sam.”

Dean felt Cas’ hold on him tighten and could feel him tremble against his chest. What he didn’t say was that he had told Sam to take care of him too. He heard a choked sob and he tried to pry the arms off of him but he grasped tighter, his hold turning desperate. If he didn’t let Dean go, he couldn’t leave, at least not without him.

Dean softly nuzzled Cas’ hair and whispered against ear, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Dean pressed two fingers to Cas’ head and felt his body go listless in his arms. Gently, he guided him back down to lay against the mattress. He sat there for a few minutes, taking in everything he could: the mess of his hair, the sharpness of his nose, his full lips, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

He rubbed at Cas’ cheeks with his thumbs, wiping away the tear tracks. Dean leaned over and pressed his lips to Cas’ forehead, closing his eyes as he did so, twin tears falling out behind his eyelids and streaking down his cheeks. He didn’t know what the angel equivalent felt like, but for him, this was falling. He dropped his head down, pressing their foreheads together.

“Goodbye, Cas.” He managed to press out through the knot in his throat, feeling his heart break with the weight of the words.

Getting up from his side, he placed a small box on the nightstand by the bed and—just like that—he was gone.

 

Crowley stared at the bowl of summoning ingredients in front of him, equal parts eager and anxious. On one hand, if he succeeded, he would be able to celebrate doing the witch in. On the other hand, if he failed, he would come to a short and messy end. ‘ _Let the party begin._ ’, he dropped a match into the bowl, sparks flaring up. ‘ _And there she is._ ’

Abaddon stood on the other side of the double doors, hands on her hips and a look on her face that could peel paint off the walls. “Funny, I didn’t think you were this stupid.”

“Stupid? No.”, he looked down briefly to make sure Dean got the message that Abaddon was on the premises.

“You couldn’t beat me when you were king, what makes you think you can beat me now?”

“First off, we never formally met when I was king—with me sans being restrained. Second, I don’t need to beat you.”

Abaddon went to step towards him, hesitating for a moment to look around for any devil’s traps before continuing. She grunted as she came across an invisible wall, jerking harshly to try and get through it. Crowley’s face scrunched up as she hissed, the sound making the room quake. When the sound stopped he cracked an eye open. “Where is it?!” She hissed again, looking around the room a second time.

“Why would I tell you that? That’s half the fun.”

He had actually gotten lucky, because he wasn’t entirely sure if his plan would work. Knowing she would be on the lookout for Devil’s traps, he set one on the ceiling of the floor directly below them and even on the floor below that. He was nothing if not thorough…and clever. He enjoyed being clever.

Pulling a bowl out of the top drawer of the desk, ingredients already inside and began reciting a spell. Aside from the ingredients for the sealing spell, Crowley had also asked Balthazar to get a bit of bone from a burned, husk of a body. The body that Abaddon had left behind the night Sam had tried to purify him, to be more precise. His mouth started working over the spell he chose specially for her. She hissed loudly again, the plaster on the ceiling above cracking. Without so much as stuttering, Crowley raised a gun from the desk and fired four shots into Abaddon. One thing he had learned well, don’t put all your eggs in one basket. She was starting to become hurried, quickly trying to dig out all the bullets with devil’s traps etched into them.

Crowley slit his hand and let it trickle into the bowl, “ _Urere._ ” He cracked a sinister smile, “Burn, baby, _burn_.” Fire started at her feet before erupting into a violent blaze, the sound ripped from her throat threatening to shake the house apart. He watched her suffer until she turned into smoke and was ripped through the floor. Crowley braced himself on his desk as everything rattled, ‘ _Earthquake?_ ’

 

As soon as Dean started the spell he could feel unrest beneath his skin and knew that all the demons could feel it. The further he got into the spell, the more the throne room shifted, embers flaring up around him. Demons were everywhere, trying to claw their way to him, his light shining from him barely keeping them away. A few had gone on anyways, making a claw mark here and there before being eaten away by his grace.

By the end of the spell, Dean was surrounded by demons, all trying to destroy him. He drew the blade of the knife across his palm, the metal stinging his skin as it sliced it open, blood trickling as he recited the last line. “ _Ego signum infernum._ ”Through the raucous wails and screams, he managed to complete the spell. 

Dean felt the spell take course, his brain clouding as he began to lose consciousness. This is where he would stay, trapped forever. But everyone he cared about was safe, that’s all that mattered. He thought of all the things he and Sam had been through, good and bad. The pranks they played on each other, the times they brought the other back from the brink of darkness. He thought of Charlie and how she was the bravest and smartest girl he knew. She was brave because she did things even though she was scared. He thought of Kevin, how he had sacrificed so much and yet he stayed, because it was the right thing to do. He thought of Cas…from when he first appeared to their time together in the house. A smile spread across his lips as he remembered sitting with him on the back porch one night, looking at the sky and Cas pointing out different stars to him.

‘ _And so it goes._ ’ was his last thought before it all faded to black.

 

Cas woke up, not wanting to open his eyes, but he forced himself to. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small box resting on the table. Sitting up, he reached over and picked it up, hand pausing on the lid of it before he slid it off. There was a note inside and Cas’ eyes swept over it, his hands shaking and the ache by now was sharp. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up towards the ceiling before closing his eyes, tears falling freely from behind his eyelids. His chest felt hollowed out and he sobbed, a broken sound muffled behind his hand.

 

‘ _I’m not very good at this whole feelings thing, but it’s my last chance, so I figured what the hell. We’ve both been through a lot of stuff, but we always found our way back to each other, every time. Even when it should have been impossible._

_One of the first things I did when I became king…well, you can see it. I felt bad for keeping it with me instead of giving it to you when I got it, but it helped me through things. Even if you couldn’t be with me, at least I had that. I was so selfish, I couldn’t even give it to you after you got captured. But now I won’t need it anymore. Anyways, I just wanted to say, you’re important to me too._ ’

 

Beneath the small note was a black leather necklace, a small glass vial hanging from it, an impossibly bright blue light swirled around inside. _His grace_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …I made myself cry. : | Damn me. Haha  
> Aeternitas (the word Dean was trying to pronounce)=Eternity  
> Urere= Burn. Because, yeah, I really wanted to see Crowley one-up Abaddon.  
> Ego signum infernum= I seal hell


	16. Profound Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all! Seriously, every bit of feedback makes me a very happy panda. :)

A drop of rain fell from the sky, causing light brown eyelashes to flutter on a tan, freckled cheek. The owner of the freckles was vaguely aware of warmth curled up at his side. Opening his eyes, he was in awe, as a dark head of hair surrounded by light—a halo—swam into his vision.

“Cas?”

The figure next to him stirred and looked up at him, mouth turning up in a small smile in acknowledgement.

Dean was so overwhelmed with emotions, but he was happy, happier than he had been in a long time. He grinned at his best friend, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Pulling me out of hell a hobby of yours?” With that gesture, things had come full circle from when Cas had first entered his life.

He made a soft humming noise before responding, “It would appear so.”

Dean rose up on his left side, still gazing down at him.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Yeah, so did I.”

The pair of them were still, taking each other in. Cas had propped himself up on his elbow and their faces were close. Dean could feel the warmth from his breath across his face, the cool rain a harsh contrast. The rain was falling freely now and he could hear it pattering on the leaves of the trees in the forest around them. Their clothes were soaked through and the ground was softening beneath them.

“You saved me.”

“I told you, I couldn’t watch you fall.”, Cas whispered, his eyes brimming with that same emotion that Dean couldn’t quite place.

When he thought he was dying, Dean realized something very important. If he had died, there were so many things he would have regretted not doing in his life. He had been afraid of all the little ‘what if’s. Now that he had another chance, he didn’t want to have any regrets.

Dean raised a hand to cup Cas’ jaw, hovering momentarily as uncertainty settled under his emotions before he pressed it against his warm skin. He felt a hand gently grasp his wrist, a thumb rubbing soothing strokes against the back of his hand. The pair kept their eyes trained on one another and Dean could feel his heart beating a harsh staccato in his throat staring into those deep blue orbs. In that moment, it was just them; no demons, no angels, no end of the world. Dean took a shuddering breath to steady his nerves before sliding his eyes shut and leaning forward, pressing his lips to Cas’.

He heard Cas exhale from his nose like he had been holding his breath. His lips felt warm, plush, and damp against his own. His heart fluttered as he felt a warm tongue sweep across his bottom lip, asking for invitation. Dean parted his lips, moaning softly as he did so. The tongue slid against his, causing warmth to spread all over his body, making him flush lightly. He shivered as he felt and heard Cas moan into his mouth. They kissed soft and slow, their tongues dancing languidly together, their lips making wet noises as they moved against each other. Both of them trying to push their emotions into the kiss that they had always been too afraid to convey.

Dean wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that until they needed to pull away for air. He opened his eyes to see Cas looking back up at him, pupils blown wide. Dean pressed another firm kiss against his lips. “I should have done that a long time ago.” His green eyes were full of warmth as he looked at Cas.

Cas smiled softly and turned his head into Dean’s hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. Thunder rolling gently up ahead made them turn their attention away from each other and up to the sky. Abruptly, Cas felt Dean go tense against him. “Shit! Cas, everyone still thinks I’m dead!”, he blurted out frantically. “We gotta get back!”

Looking inside himself for his grace, he attempted to materialize his wings but nothing happened. He had used up all of his power for the spell and needed to recuperate. He turned to Cas to see if he had any and got a head shake in response. Turns out flying someone out of hell is draining, who knew?

“Maybe if I pray?” Dean pushed himself up from the wet ground and closed his eyes, looking up at the sky. “I pray to the angel Balthazar-or Gabriel-whichever. I’m alive you bastard. But Cas and I are both out of mojo so if you could—ya know—pop in and take us away.”

He waited for a minute without getting a response before praying louder. He heard Cas grumble from his side, “You know, raising your voice doesn’t help them hear you.”

“I don’t get it, why aren’t they answering? You don’t think they’re in trouble, do you?”

“In all likelihood, it’s probably from the spell you used. A spell of that magnitude is bound to interfere with airwaves. It will probably be a day or so before they’re back up. There was an earthquake when the spell finished, like the Earth was adjusting itself.” He had watched as the earth trembled around them, rippling out like water after a pebble breaking the surface, the trees on the edge of the field swaying as it passed.

“What, you mean like a giant reboot?”

Cas recalled things that Dean had taught him of computers and compared them, “Yes. I believe that is an accurate comparison.”

“Alright, so we can’t fly and pray-station is down. I guess we walk.” Dean started walking towards the forest when a hand grabbed his. Cas cupped his face when he turned around and pressed their lips together. Dean smiled into the kiss and brought his freehand up to rub lazily against the wet curls at the back of Cas’ neck.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Cas mumbled against him.

“I don’t plan on it.” He placed a wet kiss on his forehead. “C’mon, let’s go.” Dean fit his fingers through Cas’ and continued walking. Even though they still had heaven and its angels to deal with, in this moment, Dean and Cas were perfectly content. ‘ _Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt._ ’

 

Sam sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, surrounded by his brother’s things and pretending that he wasn’t gone. He looked at the picture of his mother on the desk and at the various belongings in the room. He covered his face with his hands as tears threatened to spill over again. The phone in his pocket vibrated and he slowly smoothed his hands down his face before taking it out and looking at it. He didn’t recognize the number but he felt obligated to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sammy.”

Sam’s breath caught in his throat and his heart skittered to a halt. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Dean could hear Sam break down on the other end of the line, sobbing hysterically through the phone and wiped at the tears in his own eyes. “It’s okay, I’m alright. It’s okay.”, Dean choked out on the line.

“Why aren’t you h-home?”, Sam hiccupped.

“Cas and I are both out of mojo. I’m speaking from a payphone because angel air is down or something. Anyone with wings there?” They had been lucky to get money for said payphone considering none of the locals spoke English.

“Yeah.” He heard Sam sniffle, composing himself, “Gabriel is here, at least he was. He stays pretty busy. Let me go check.” Dean waited while his brother went and looked for Gabriel, sneaking looks every so often at Cas who looked rather out of place in his gray t-shirt and pajama pants.

“Heyo! Well if it isn’t Mr. Righteous, back from the dead…again. Where you at, brah?”

“Uhhh-“ Dean looked around for a sign at their location. He spotted a sign and snorted loudly, “We’re in _Moscow_. How soon do you thi-“

“- _please._ ” Gabriel spoke from right behind him, a smirk on his face. Dean turned around to see the archangel and, for the first time, his duel set of wings. The top pair were white with partially brown arches, the long white pinions striped with brown. The second pair were pure white and seemed to radiate light. Gabriel followed his gaze and spoke up, “Harpy eagle. Admit it, you’re jealous.”

“Just take us home!”

“Mah, you’re no fun. Let’s get you two lovebirds back then.”

 

Dean was nearly tackled to the ground by his overgrown brother when they arrived in the library, his breath coming out of him in a whoosh. Charlie and Kevin joined in shortly on the embrace and Dean wrapped his arms around them all.

“You’re an asshole.” Charlie sniffled next to him.

“I second that.” Kevin added from his other side.

Unfortunately, Dean’s good mood couldn’t last forever.

All it took for Dean’s mood to go from sunshine and rainbows to venom and acid was the arrival of the devil. Well, the former devil. He was presently standing in front of them, courtesy of Angel Airlines via Balthazar.

“You fucking lied to me!”, he aimed a fiery glare at him.

“I beg your pardon? I never lied to you. Not recently, anyways.”

“But you said everyone in Hell would be sealed in!”

“No, I said all of _its denizens_. Last I checked, angels don’t live in hell, they live upstairs. I was a demon, which is why I couldn’t do it. I would have been trapped down there.” Crowley supplied nonchalantly. “You, however, could get out just fine.” It wasn’t his fault that the boy never paid attention to details.

“So wait, you knew all this time?”

“Of course. Now, boys, do you still have the translations from the angel tablet that you showed me before?”

“Yeah, why? They haven’t changed.” Dean still wanted to punch him in his pointy mouth, but now his curiosity was peaked.

“Just give me the blasted things!”, Crowley snapped at them, motioning with his hand.

Dean pulled a face before collecting them and handing them over, scowling in confusion.

As Crowley read over them, hands planted on the tabletop—leaning over the notes—his hurried expression shifted and a smile slowly pulled across his face. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, still grinning before looking up at everyone seated at the table, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“Remember when I said that the spell that sealed Heaven was irreversible? That wasn’t entirely true.”

 

 

 

Wings: <http://imgur.com/gallery/y76d04f>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finallyyyyy. I hope I made the hurt better. :3 Like the last chapter, the quote is from Vonnegut. I wanted to draw parallels...or something. And sorry about the last chapter, dearlings~ Though I do think it was one of my best~ (I can’t really kill people off, it makes me too sad because I adore the characters too! Haha…but even though I knew that I still got weepy every time I went over it XD)  
> Oh Crowley, you sneaky bastard you~


	17. The Redeemed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Perhaps you’re searching for someone whose demons play well with your own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*Alas, there be smut ahead, mateys!*~ It’s at the end of the chapter and is also why this one is particularly long. haha

“You son of a bitch!”, Dean stepped forward, ready to stalk over and punch Crowley.

“Ah-ah! You misunderstand. I wasn’t hiding it, but what was required didn’t exist at the time.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Alright, listen up everyone. Do you want to do this or not?”

They all looked at each other before turning back to Crowley.

“Good. Now, the spell is part blood spell and part essence. Think like back to the holy weapon, only different blood this time—mostly. One part is the same. But the best part of all this…we have most of what we need right here in this room.”, he said with a smirk.

“How is that possible?”

“Short of divine intervention? I’d have to say we have the Winchester boys to thank with their penchant of attracting the supernatural. What we need is-‘Blood of an angel who fell from Heaven for humanity, only to rise back again.’” Crowley gave a pointed look at Cas.

“The second,” Crowley looked down at the table and smiled wistfully, “ ‘Blood of a human who fell, only to rise back up to humanity.’” He held his arms out a bit to his sides to indicate himself and tilted his head. “This last one though, that was the impossible…or so I thought.” He slid his hands loosely into the pockets of his slacks.

“Yeah yeah, out with it!” Dean gestured impatiently.

“The last part of the spell calls for something very specific. ‘Blood of a human, who rose to heaven and went to hell for humanity— _without falling_ ’—that last bit is very important.”

All the eyes in the room turned to Dean who sat wide-eyed.

“Hold up, how long did you know about this?”

Crowley smiled, “Remember the first time I saw you as an angel? You said it wasn’t important and I argued that it was? Eh? Ring a bell?” He pitched his eyebrows up for emphasis.

“So basically, what you’re saying is-”

“From the very beginning. That’s also why you had to be the one to seal hell and why I had to be purified. I also figured you were going to go after your lover’s grace, so that knocked out all three blood parts. This spells all about redemption, boys and gals.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “But why are you helping with this? Hell and Abaddon I get, but why do you give a rat’s ass about Heaven?” While Crowley had been known to help them on occasion, it had always been self-motivated.

“Since I’m human, I’ll be stuck here. Granted I don’t know if the angels care enough to make a big mess of it. Other than that, I don’t have an answer.” For once, not having all the answers, Crowley felt somewhat bereft. “There are more important questions to ask, however, such as what else is needed for the spell. There are seven parts in total, three of them the aforementioned blood. The fourth is the blessing of an archangel.”

“God bless us! Every one!”, Gabriel hollered loudly.

Crowley blinked and took in a breath before carrying on, “The fifth is going to be a little harder to procure. We need the grace of whoever sealed heaven, which as I have gathered, is Metatron.”

“How did you know that?” Sam asked him.

“Your vents in this building carry sound rather well.” Crowley had heard so many snippets of conversation sitting in their dungeon. Some of the snippets had been useful, such as the detail on Metatron; some of them less so, such as Dean praying to the shower because he loved its water pressure.

“Son of a-“

“Next, the words to the spell itself. The angel tablet doesn’t have that, but it does give the location to the Heaven tablet that does.” Kevin seemed to sag and pale at that comment. Being a prophet really wasn’t an honor at all, the hours sucked and the pay sucked worse.

“Great, another damn dinosaur turd.”

“Relax squirrel or you’ll have an aneurism with this last one.”

“I didn’t know you cared.” Dean said sarcastically.

“If you die all my hard work will be for nothing.”

“I’m so touched.”

“Anyways, the last part is going to be a royal pain in the arse. We need a kiss of Death.”

“You mean as in the guy that threatened to kill us last time for binding him?”

“No, the _other_ Death!”, Crowley snarked irritably.

“Why the hell do we need that?”

“As far as I can gather it’s a contrast with the blessing of the archangel, one ushering in life and the other death.”

“Guess we’ll leave that one for last…man, why does it always have to be Death?” Dean whined. He was much more polite and hospitable than he thought he would be, but he was still scary as all get out.

“Wait, you mean Death is a person?” Charlie mumbled from Dean’s side, somewhat stunned. “Like, black robe, scythe and a skeleton face?”

“Nah, he wears a suit and has a penchant for greasy food.”

“You’re shitting me.”

Dean laughed, “I couldn’t make this stuff up. We ate pizza together in a pizzeria once.”

“And you tried to bind Death?!”

“Desperate times and all that.” Dean really didn’t want to go into details about it with Cas standing right behind him. Actually, he didn’t want to go into it at all.

“While we’re on the topic, I think it’s time we got you all up to date on the angel squad!”, Gabriel clapped his hands together and looked at everyone, a large board with markers on it appeared at the end of the long table. “Balty, if you would. Take a seat everybody.”

Crowley mouthed ‘Balty’ at Balthazar and received a sharp glare in return that dared him to call him that.

Balthazar pointed to an area on a large map pinned to the board with a long, thin pointer with a small leather flap on the end, facing the group with the fingers of his right hand tucked into the pocket of his tight pants.

“Is that a riding crop, angel?”, Crowley inquired, his eyebrows raised.

“Ask me that after the meeting.”

“Promise?”, Crowley’s lips curled up into a sly smile.

“Keep it up and it’ll be a threat.”

“Hmm, you do know how to get a girl excited.”, he replied, leering at him.

Dean made a choking sound before snipping, “Hey! Knock it off!”

Balthazar cleared his throat, “Right. These are Malachi’s forces. Mostly concentrated here last we saw.”, he pointed to a few red dots on the map. “This is Bartholomew’s home for wayward angels.”, the group was a bit bigger than Malachi’s. “Here we have Metatron’s, who has apparently been recruiting angels to join him in Heaven, group. This is recent, though.”, the group of dots was only comprised of 6 marks. “And this,” Balthazar smirked, “represents our forces.” The marks that he indicated to were nearly double the number of either Malachi’s or Bartholomew’s.

“Holy shit.”

“Holy _indeed_.”

“So I take it it’s going well then?”

“As well as a civil war between angels can, so yeah, you can say that. I’ve been busy.” Gabriel smirked and crossed his arms. “Gotta love being the biggest player on the board.”

 

Balthazar had taken Crowley back home, arriving in the study of the new house. He had been surprised to see garland over the fireplace and other various Christmas decorations that made the place look rather cozy. Crowley merely shrugged a shoulder at his questioning look and told him that he wasn’t the Scrooge.

After settling in, Balthazar stared out the window, still trying to figure out why he kept coming back to this place. ‘This place’ was now relative since he had moved, so it was a better question to ask why he kept coming back to _him_. Though he was hardly one to question why, he simply did what he wanted. Except in this case, he was trying to figure out _why_ he wanted to. He didn’t have to think too hard, however, because the man was charming, had a sense of class, was witty, often duped the Winchesters, and his perverted sense of humor amused him. ‘ _He’s also kind of adorable_ ’, his mind supplied offhandedly, which caused his thoughts to come to a skidding halt. ‘ _Oh father. Father help me, I think I’ve caught Cassie’s human liking disease!_ ’ Balthazar groaned out loud and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Problem, darling?”

‘ _Stop calling me darling!_ ’, his brain snapped. “What? No, why would there be a problem?”, he laughed nervously. ‘ _That was smooth, Balthazar. Why do I get the feeling he knows what he’s doing?_... _then why not play along?_ ’, the devious, less than angelic part of his brain supplied. “Actually, I was just wondering why I keep coming back here when I could go anywhere else, really.”

The corner of Crowley’s mouth twitched up slightly and his fingers toyed with the corner of the book in his lap. “Perhaps you’re searching for someone whose demons play well with your own.”

“Perhaps.”

Balthazar hummed and turned back to the window, twisting the ring on his left pinky absentmindedly as he watched the fluffy white snowflakes fall from the sky outside. While his main concern by far was still himself and self-preservation, he couldn’t deny the fondness bubbling up for the former demon. It had started out mostly as empathy, but gradually over the past few weeks he had come to value many of his characteristics. He was hardly the hero, but that’s what he liked about him, he could appreciate the anti-hero. Though what scared him was how similar they both were, two sides of the same coin. 

Somewhere in his reverie his ears had picked up a sound, lulling lightly through the air from somewhere far off. Looking around, he realized that Crowley was no longer in the room with him. Curiosity peaked; he started following the sound of the noise.

He walked through hallways decorated with antique mirrors and tables, windows adorned with heavy curtains. He looked through various rooms only to find them dark and empty. Reaching the end of the hall, he opened the doors there, the sound preening out proud and melodious once revealed. When the last note tapered off he spoke, “You play the violin?”

“ _Viola._ ”, Crowley’s tone was tinged with a hint of annoyance, obviously used to having to correct people. Though he doubted many people knew he played.

He started another piece, turning around to face away from Balthazar, hiding a mischievous smile. While Balthazar’s tastes in music varied, he found himself enraptured by the soft push and flow of the notes. It wasn’t until partway through the melody that he froze, realizing what he was listening to.

“Oh fuck me.” Heaven help him, he had just been swept away by that god awful Titanic song. To be fair, it sounded much better this way, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it.

Crowley laughed, “Maybe if you ask nicely, kitten.”

           

Back at the bunker everyone conversed, enjoying one another’s company. It had been a while since they could all sit together freely. Night came quickly, however, and eventually they all retired to their respective rooms. With the exception of Cas, who was intercepted by Dean. He wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist from behind and nuzzled the space right below his ear, taking in his warm scent.

“You know, you don’t have to go to your room.” Dean spoke softly, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

“Mm, are you propositioning me?” Cas smiled with his eyes closed, eyebrows raised slightly as he enjoyed Dean’s affections.

“Yes?” The question drew a laugh from his angel. “We don’t have to, we could just lay down together.” Dean’s hands wandered down over Cas’ stomach, the fingertips of his right hand teasing lightly under the waistband of his pants, halting there. Cas’ skin tingled with anticipation and he swallowed thickly. His voice was low when he spoke again.

“I think we need to get to your room.”

Dean’s answer to that was to bump open his room door and guide the two of them inside, nipping at Cas’ neck on the way in, before closing the door behind them and locking it.

Cas twisted in his arms and kissed him hard on the mouth, earning an enthusiastic reciprocation from Dean. Cas parted his lips and Dean curled his tongue inside, warmth pooling in his stomach as he felt it slide against Cas’. He rubbed his thigh firmly against Cas’ crotch eliciting a high pitched moan that sent chills up his spine. The sound was wonderful and erotic to his ears and drew an answering moan from him. He gripped the bottom of Cas’ shirt and pulled it over his head, discarding it to the floor, his own shirt joining it. Their mouths met for a hard, messy kiss, Dean backing Cas up to the edge of the bed. He pushed him and he flopped back onto it, Dean falling on top of him. Dean placed soft kisses and bites along his jaw as he slid his shoes off using his feet. Slipping his fingers through his hair, he gently pulled his head back, exposing his neck. He moaned and panted against the soft skin as he ground down against him, pushing his hips into the soft mattress, trying to abate some of his arousal. Cas let out a rough moan, shivering at the sweet friction.

“Dean, _please._ ” He pleaded with him, desperate to feel him inside.

Dean sloppily pulled Cas’ pants off, Cas helping him pull his own off as he reached for the gun oil he kept in his desk drawer. He fumbled with it as he looked down at Cas, his hair was messed up, pupils blown out and lips spit slicked. He leaned down and kissed him firmly.

“I-“, his words choked off with nerves, he cupped his face, kissing him more desperately and hoping he understood.

Opening the bottle he poured the slick liquid onto his fingers before setting it on top of the desk. Dean grabbed Cas’ legs and settled them over his shoulders. His middle finger rubbed slow, firm circles over his entrance before moving inside, earning a gasp. The ring of muscle was tight around his finger as he worked to stretch it, working the digit in and out rhythmically. Cas closed his eyes and keened as the tip of his finger brushed against his prostate. Dean added another finger, keeping the same rhythm. He wanted to be careful with him, but at the same time Dean felt that if he wasn’t in him soon, he was going to lose his mind.

Removing his fingers, Dean lined himself up, letting out a drawn out moan as he sank into his lover. “ _Cas._ ” His breath caught in his throat as the tight heat throbbed around his shaft. He moaned and tilted his head back, pupils drowning green eyes before they fluttered shut. Cas covered one of his hands on his hips with his own, bringing him back down to the moment. He settled into a slow, heavy rhythm, his hips pressing plush against him with each thrust. The push and pull movements were gradually driving them over the edge, fingers fighting for purchase on sweaty skin, delicious sensations drawing moans from love swollen lips. Dean quickened his pace, thrusting harder up into tight heat, relishing in the moans it drew from Cas. He was writhing beneath him, breath hitching with each fevered thrust. The heat knotted around Dean’s shaft, causing stars to dance behind his eyes as Cas clamped his hand over his mark on his shoulder, arching up from the mattress, his muscles pulled taut, grace shattering out from him. A bright light burst through his conscious, a slightly choked, broken moan escaping his lips as his orgasm overtook him.

From Cas’ hand clamped on his shoulder, Dean felt a pulling and mingling with something inside of him. He froze as the feeling completely overwhelmed him, pleasure sliding over every nerve. When the warmth in his chest turned impossibly hot it was all it took to tip him over the edge. With one last grind of his hips, his length buried deep inside Cas, he came-curling in towards the sharp sensation and gripping tight to Cas’ narrow hips as he felt something inside of him unfurl and reach outside of his skin. His grasp on consciousness wavered as his body shorted out from the sensation.

Panting and shivering he collapsed forward, spent, onto Cas. He trailed drowsy kisses across any skin he could find in the dark. A hand lazily moved through his hair and he smiled. Dean pulled the sheet up around them and settled back against Cas, his head resting on his shoulder. He could definitely get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I…I hope that wasn’t bad~ :x Envisioning things and writing it are two different things. Be gentle on me! haha  
> Embarrassingly enough, despite having played the flute for many years, I still needed to research (I research all kinds of things for this story, like the forest from last chapter in Moscow XD) the differences between the violin, viola, and cello. I found that the viola sounded the best to me of the three as I liked the fuller sound compared to the violin. :> The song at the start of the music scene I imagine as Swan Lake, because there’s a part of it that I’m enamored with. I thought of the Nutcracker since it’s the holidays in this fic, but I don’t like it as much. :x I wanted something at a slower tempo for the scene.


	18. First Move on the Chessboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘I knew I should have faked my death again and told Gabriel to sod off.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who started early and got to this point, in the next however many chapters (since there aren’t all that many left I don’t think) I added a note to the beginning that if I do any Crowlazar smut—mind the pairing will still be in it, just no playing hide the salami—I’m adding it in separate (part of a collection I guess) to protect people’s sensibilities because I don’t know how many people are into that ship or not~ I don’t even know if I’m into that part of the ship sometimes and yet I’ve written it and thought about it in some context of the story. I’m so confused. Can you tell by my rambling? Haha  
> As always, thanks for reading darlings!

Dean stirred awake, feeling warm and languid nestled against Cas’ side, the room quiet but for the angel’s soft breathing. For the first time in his life, Dean felt like things were clicking into place. This was his safe haven from all the things that went bump in the night and haunted his dreams.

Thoughts shifting, he remembered all the work they still had to do to pry Heaven back open. There was still a big chance that things could head south and take away all of this, but he was going to fight tooth and nail to keep it. With everything he had to fight for, his fire burned brighter than ever. If there was one thing to fear, it was a determined Winchester.

Though in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help the small voice that wondered if Cas would be going back home after everything was said and done. A hand brushed down the back of his neck and he quickly shoved the thought out of his head.

“Why is it so dark in here?”

Dean grinned, “I think we blew out the lights when we-uh, ya know.”

“Oh.” Cas let what he said sink in, “ _Oh.”_

“Yeah, I’m not sure what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it.” Dean had to fight the urge to giggle like a school girl, remembering their fireworks display from last night.

“During orgasm, I can assure you, the lighting was the least of my concerns.”

Dean huffed out a laugh, “If you were thinking about that, I would have been insulted.”

Changing tone, Dean leaned in and whispered in Cas’ ear while lightly trailing his fingertips down his muscled stomach, “Though that means I would just have to work harder to make sure that I’m all you’re thinking about.”

Cas’ breath hitched at his words and teasing touches. “If you keep that up, we won’t be getting out of bed for a while.”

Dean groaned, “That is _so_ damned tempting. But we should probably start trying to knock things off of the spell list…probably.”

“Mm, you’re right, we should.” He felt a warm mouth angle over his in the dark. ‘ _Heaven can wait a few more minutes.’_

 

The pair emerged from Dean’s room roughly a half hour later, Cas adorning the worst case of sex-hair that Dean had ever seen. Naturally right as they were exiting, Sam was walking by with an armful of books. His eyebrows shot up when he spotted them, a questioning smile on his face.

“This is not what-actually okay, this is almost certainly and exactly what you think it is.” Dean grinned unapologetically.

Of all the things he expected his brother to say, “It’s about time.” had not been one of them.

“What?”

“If I had to sit around another day while you two eye-banged each other, I was going to lock you both in a closet and let you figure it out.”

“We don’t-“ Sam cut him off with a skeptical look and he blushed slightly, deflating. Cas looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. So maybe he had been unknowingly giving the angel his ‘ _I really like you, please bang me_ ’look. But that was completely—mostly—unintentional.

“Now help me carry some of these books.”

“I should wash my hands first.” Considering his fingers had been in some _interesting_ places.

Sam put on his bitch face and made a disgusted noise, “Never mind.”

 

Freshly showered, Dean and Cas joined everyone in the library. Sam and Gabriel were over by a shelf and Gabriel was on his toes trying to reach a book. After watching him with an amused expression on his face, Sam grabbed the book and handed it to him.

“Thanks, sasquatch.”

“Hey, I can’t help you’re short.”

Gabriel gasped and gave him a mock hurt expression, “I’m not short.” He sniffled and tilted his chin up, “I’m _fun size._ ”

“Okay fun size, what’s the plan?” Dean asked, taking a large bite of his burrito.

“Kevin is working on translating the tablet for anything that mentions the Heaven tablet. Other than that we’re kind of riding a blind horse into battle. I mean, we don’t know where Metatron is going to be, and we should save the big smooch from Death for last on our list. Though that’s just my opinion, but I’m pretty sure it’s a shared one.”

“Actually,” Charlie tapped out something on her tablet, “I think, since there aren’t many of you guys that can fly right now, that I can program the bunker’s computer to track jumps. There won’t be a way to tell if it’s Metatron or one of our guys, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

“Ohh.” Gabriel chirped excitedly, “You can do that? You’re now my new favorite person!” He whispered a small ‘Sorry Sammy’ to Sam before continuing on, “Knowing if it’s one of our own shouldn’t be too much of a problem, because I keep tabs on everyone. Hell, the only ones that really flit around are Balty and I. And he really only goes to one place which, if you ask me, there’s something going on there.” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows. That was a mental picture that Dean didn’t need. Ever. “Speaking of, since you’re still alive and don’t have your army of gremlins anymore, you should probably continue your training.”

Dean groaned and flopped back in his seat, but Gabriel had called Balthazar and whisked them—Cas once again included—away to a field in the middle of nowhere before he could complain further.

“We need to teach you to fight properly in the likely event that you come up against another angel, one that isn’t mildly retarded.” Balthazar gestured at Dean with his hands.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I think I do just fine. You know what? More than fine, I kick a-“, suddenly, Dean was sprawled out on his back, Cas crouching by his side with an angel blade poised a few scant centimeters from his left eye.

“I think I just peed a little.”, Dean wheezed.

Cas stood in a graceful motion, eyes squinting and looking off to the side he said, “I seem to recall something about ‘nerd’ angels?” His eyes turned back to Dean, laughter dancing in them and a small smirk playing on his lips.

Balthazar smiled and crossed his arms, “Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch, Cassie.”

“Is it just me or did baby bro just burn Dean-o?” Gabriel snickered.

“Laugh it up Cas, you’re gonna get it.”

“Not at this rate.”

Dean gaped in amused disbelief at Cas, “That’s it, chuckles.” He got up from the ground and pointed at him, “You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight!”

“Oh my.” Balthazar commented, entirely too entertained by their bantering for his own good. ‘ _Looks like the Winchester boy finally grew a pair._ ’ He smiled, as much as the Winchesters bothered him at times, he had never seen his friend so lighthearted before. If he wasn’t careful, the brothers might grow on him.

 

Balthazar fluttered into one of the living rooms of Crowley’s house, finding the warlock on a large chair surrounded by open books, one of which he was fairly certain was written in blood. There were several markers in the books and a laptop sat on the table in front of him.

“What are you doing?”

"Making notes. I only dabbled in magic before because, being a demon, it’s not really necessary to know. Not all spells are useful and there are multiple spells that can all accomplish the same thing. I’m also not fond of thought magic.”

“And that is?”

“Most commonly called Voodoo, in simple terms, you think it can affect you and it can. I prefer my magic to be able to affect someone whether they bloody well think it can or not.”

Balthazar hummed in agreement, walking to stand behind him, left hand on the armrest and his right arm lying against the back of his chair as he looked over his shoulder. His eyes skimmed over the various books, stopping on one in particular he pointed to it, “There’s another spell for this in Enochian and it requires less catalysts.”

He got a look of mild surprise in response.

“What? I know a handful of spells. Far and few between, however, given I just smite whatever pisses me off.” Balthazar smirked deviously, “Want to see me pull a rabbit out of my hat?”

Crowley huffed out a laugh at the cheesy pickup line, typing another spell up on his laptop. Partway through typing, his fingers stilled, his eyes catching movement. Looking up, he spoke warily to Balthazar who still hovered behind him, “Friends of yours?”

He looked up and saw two men entering the room, one with brown hair and one with black, gripping angel blades. Crowley caught the shift in Balthazar’s eyes as they shifted to hard steel, the power in them telling of the ancient being in the guise of a human.

“Didn’t think so.” Crowley got up, retreating up the staircase and keeping his eyes on the intruders.

Balthazar wasn’t really surprised to see Crowley leaving, not like he could do much of anything to angels anyways. Though it did kind of smart a little because he had come to think of him as a, dare he say it, friend.

“What is your purpose here?”

“We came to give you a choice. You can join Bartholomew, or die. We do not wish to kill you, brother, please join us.”

“Well isn’t that nice of you, but I’ve already chosen my side, and it’s not with either of the homicidal maniacs.” He really did not like these odds, but he could not bring himself to join a side that wasn’t Gabriel’s. He was still of the opinion that without father, the majority of his brothers and sisters had lost their minds.

“Blondie!” Crowley called to him from the top of the stairs and, when he looked up, tossed him another angel blade. After doing so he disappeared down the hallway.

At least now the odds looked slightly less terrible. But only slightly.

“We are sorry then, brother.” The pair lunged at him and he blocked their strikes roughly, the force of their blows shocking through the angel blades. He could feel the heart of his vessel thrum with adrenaline.

Balthazar had to make purely defensive moves, not being able to break away and stab at one of the two. He maneuvered and snaked around, dodging and swiping, one blade coming too close and slicing through his cheek.

Moving towards the stairs, Balthazar finally found an opening and stabbed at the brown haired angel to his right, plunging the blade deep but having to draw back without it as the other angel sliced towards his arm. The brown haired angel fell to the floor, exploding in a burst of light, wings burnt into the floor.

With one strike, the other angels blade twirled around his own, cutting harshly into his fingers and causing him to drop his blade. He grabbed their wrist as they made to stab him, trying to keep it from sliding into him, but he was gradually losing the fight.

His eyes widened as he felt it pierce his skin, the silver metal sinking further into him. This was it, he was going to die. ‘ _I knew I should have faked my death again and told Gabriel to sod off.’_

There was a loud bang from the top of the staircase and the angel in front of him crumpled to the floor, another set of wings marring the floor.

Balthazar collapsed back on the stairs behind him, the angel’s blade still partially buried inside of him, light shining out around the wound. Crowley was quickly by his side, gripping the blade tightly and pulling it out. He saw an otherworldly light dance around in Balthazar’s blue eyes with the motion. Balthazar arched his back, going tense as light flickered within him—threatening to burst through—as if he could barely hold it together. A harsh ethereal light blared from the open wound. Balthazar felt his essence trying to peel away from his vessel, but he was determined to fight it.

“Don’t you dare die! Don’t you even _think_ about dying!” Crowley raised his hand and slapped Balthazar sharply, pulling him sturdily back to his vessel. Which hurt like hell, he might add, but it was a welcome feeling because it meant he was still alive. Uneasiness coiled in Crowley’s stomach, Balthazar’s skin had been pliant beneath his hand and so very unlike that of an angel vessel.

“I wouldn’t dream of dying on your ugly arse carpet. Whose grandmother did you steal this from anyways?” Balthazar choked out after regaining himself, breath ragged and voice wet with blood.

Crowley huffed, “You’re an idiot.”

“You know, I thought for sure you had left. Change of heart?”

“I had to get this.” Crowley raised up his hand with a revolver in it. “Angel bullets. I left the blasted thing in my study.” That brought up the question of why Crowley hadn’t just left him, but neither of them were willing to address that at the moment—if at all.

Balthazar fished his phone out of his pocket, moving as little as possible.

“Gabriel,” his eyes were grim, voice still rough, “they have made the first move.”

With those words, the angel war had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of ship Sabriel but if I included that there would be like three relationships (three gay ones) and I might as well be ushering in the gay parade. XD  
> Side note that I never mentioned, for the first portion of this fanfic, I associated the song ‘An Unbearable Act’ by The Gazette to it. Not necessarily with the lyrics(it’s jrock so they’re Japanese) but the sound of it. I have eclectic tastes in music at times so it may not be for everyone. ;P


	19. Cupcake, Cupcake?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments~!  
> I don’t know if I’m going to finish this by the 14th. D: But it'll be far enough along to ward off any parallels I hope. :x

Headaches and exhaustion were new to Balthazar, and in his opinion, they could bloody well piss off. His mouth was dry and he felt as if he had been stabbed.

‘ _Oh, right._ ’ Being weakened, this was the closest he had ever been to being human and he was _not_ liking these new sensations one bit.

Blearily, he blinked his blue eyes open, thankful for the soft light that greeted them. Taking in his surroundings, he recognized the room as one of the spare bedrooms in Crowley’s house—which was more of a mansion, really. Granted it was one that needed redecorating.

He went to sit up, groaned, and fell back against the mattress. ‘ _Okay, more gently this time so that I don’t feel like I’m being gutted.’_ He managed to drop his leg off the bed, booted foot clunking against the rug covered wood rather anti-climatically. ‘ _Yes, Balthazar, this is such an improvement’_ , he thought to himself sarcastically. Musing to himself, he imagined this is how it would be if a rag doll were alive. Moving slowly he made it to an upright position with a relieved sigh. He spotted a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table. Taking the pills and gulping the water down greedily, he decided he was going to go find his host. If he could get up, that is.

Plopping his other foot down on the floor, he shakily climbed to his feet, only to wind up clutching the comforter for dear life as he sank down to the floor. This was going to take a while.

 

Eventually, Balthazar had managed to make his way to the kitchen, after checking the other rooms that he had known Crowley to frequent. He didn’t really expect to find him there, but there were no other options. At least none that he thought he could reach. His normal loose saunter was currently more of a stagger, a walk that closely resembled that of a drunken pirate.

When he reached the doorway of the kitchen, he looked inside and saw Crowley standing at the counter, chopping walnuts with a butcher knife, suit jacket replaced with a white apron. But he wasn’t alone, there was a woman sneaking up behind him with a dagger in her hands. Panic bubbled up in Balthazar’s chest and he raised his arm, a warning prepared on his lips.

The warning never made it out of his mouth, however, as Crowley smoothly turned around and grabbed the woman’s weapon arm while slicing the butcher knife through her neck. The sharp blade easily slid through her flesh and severed her spine. “Whoops~. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing there.”

The head tumbled across the white tile floor, body falling shortly after, landing in a messy heap. Crowley tossed the knife in the sink and washed his hands before going back to his task as if he hadn’t just decapitated someone.

Balthazar looked down to the head at his feet with raised eyebrows, arm still raised in the air. “Do you normally behead people without looking to see who they are?”

“I’m pretty sure that they weren’t sneaking up on me with a dagger in their hand to give me a warm embrace. So yes, seeing as I would rather not be bent over the counter in a bad way.”

“But you couldn’t see the dagger in their hand until you turned around.”

Crowley shrugged, “Details.”

A thought occurred to Balthazar after a pause, “How could you be sure that it wasn’t me?”

“Your boots sound different on the floor and your footsteps have a different cadence to them.” He had become quite familiar with the blonde’s mannerisms over the past month, more so than he would care to admit.

“My, how observational of you.”

Crowley glanced back over his shoulder and Balthazar could see his grin, “Like I said, details.”

Danger averted, Balthazar took in the scene before him with slight confusion. “Are you baking?” Did he have a fever? Was he hallucinating?

“Yes, is that a problem?”, Crowley queried.

“No. It’s just so very…domestic of you.” Balthazar had an image of Crowley as a housewife and immediately squashed it down, deciding against telling him on account that he wanted to live.

Though, he couldn’t help the giggle that rose up. The seemingly unwarranted noise drew concern from Crowley.

“Are you sure you should be up and about? You look a little off.” Balthazar hadn’t moved from where he stood and was standing against the doorframe, angled slightly behind it.

“I’m fine. I don’t need you to mother me.” He swayed back slightly on his heels; his right hand gripped the doorframe tightly. So maybe he was less than fine, but he didn’t have to like it.

“I’m not mothering you.” Crowley finished chopping the walnuts and dumped them into the batter he had in a bowl. He was the former king of hell, he did _not_ coddle people, even if he was fond of the man. “Now sit down before I stick a thermometer someplace dark and deep.” Though he would rather _he_ stick _something_ someplace dark and deep in him.

“No.” He was an angel of the lord and he would not be told what to do by a human—warlock—despite the fact that he felt like lukewarm jello.

Fighting the urge to tell the angel that he was acting like a child was difficult. “You’ve still got light coming out your wound and you’re being stubborn?”

He looked down at himself and, sure enough, the wound was still slightly open and his grace was visible. “Consider it a peep-show.”

Crowley huffed out a laugh, “I’ve seen more for less, sweetheart.”

“I would show you more, but you would go blind.” Balthazar smirked, feeling clever for his little joke.

Shaking his head, Crowley poured the batter into the cupcake tin, ignoring the way the blonde’s feet had begun sliding behind him. Putting the tin into the oven, he heard a clamber from behind that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting the floor.

Sprawled ungracefully against the tile floor lay an unconscious Balthazar, hands still on the doorframe and cheek pressed against it from where he fell.

“What am I going to do with you, angel?” Crowley sighed and walked over towards him, stopping by the woman’s head that he removed a few minutes earlier. Stooping down, he pried up the upper lip with his fingers, noting holes in the gums. ‘ _Vampire. That’s what I was afraid of.’_ He had just dealt with members of the heavenly host earlier today and now he had vampires coming after him. If this was the alpha vampire’s doing, he had fantastic timing. He supposed the alpha would also be after the Winchesters as well, which he _could_ tell them that, but they would figure it out on their own eventually.

 

When Gabriel had gotten the call from Balthazar, everyone could see the change in the archangel, like a switch had been flipped. He had left shortly after to go inform the garrison of the news, leaving behind a nervous energy in the bunker.

The spark of the war was just one more thing to add to their long list of things that sucked. At least Kevin had found the bit in the angel tablet that mentioned the Heaven tablet, though he still had to translate it. Dean really felt for the poor guy. He had thought that the angel tablet was the last one he would ever have to worry about translating, and then he finds out there’s yet another tablet out in the world somewhere. Yet he hadn’t cracked under the pressure and, if anything, had seemed to be adjusting well.

He remembered the scared, freaked out kid that had just been thrust into everything when they first encountered. Seeing him now, he had a fixed determination and was taking everything in stride. Maybe he and Sam had been tough on him before, but he couldn’t help but be proud of the kid now and how far he had come. He also felt protective of him, they at least owed him that. If anything happened to him under their watch, he didn’t know what he would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO that is not foreshadowing at the end. I am not cruel like the Supernatural writers. So in case you were worried. ;P I just thought Kevin deserved some love because he’s always being overlooked. It’s just like oh he’s the prophet, read this crap for us, bee tee dubs, sorry about your gf and your mom. Crowley’s demons were more polite, like how sad is that? lolz  
> Writing Crowlazar makes me so sassy and I’m just like I can’t stop the sass. XD  
> (Completely unrelated but I watched the new Sherlock and whaaaat. Blew my mind I was so excited. Haha)


	20. Penguins and Camels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This one wasn’t written by Metatron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updates had been a little less consistent than usual because I was trying to think of something to make the Heaven tablet not just a throwaway idea. And I found iiiit~ So in theory there shouldn’t be any more hiccups. : )  
> Also, Crowlazar smut at the end~ Ahaha I accidentally a porn. >_>; But since it's at the end, if you don't want to see it, don't read it. XD

Kevin emerged from his room wrapped in a black comforter, bearing ink smudges on his cheek and—according to Charlie—was starting to look a little like a ring-wraith. He walked up to Dean and held out the stack of papers with the translations on them. When Dean didn’t grab them immediately, he shook them at him, urging him to take them wordlessly. Sam stepped over and took them from him with a small, nervous smile. His task complete, Kevin returned to his room, slamming his door behind him with an understanding that he would maim anyone that disturbed his slumber.

“Dude’s a little scary sometimes.” Dean mumbled to Sam, who nodded in agreement.

“So I guess we need to get these translations…translated.” Sam took in a breath, “I pray to the angel-“

“Hold up, before we go calling to dickbag1 to go get dickbag2, let’s see if Gabriel can translate them.”

“You really think he can do that?”

“It’s worth a shot.” Hell, he could manipulate the threads of reality and time, why wouldn’t he be able to read cuneiform?

“Alright. I pray to the angel Gabriel, we have the translations from the tablet and were wondering if you could help?”

There was a flutter and the archangel was standing before them with his hand out. Sam placed the papers in the offered hand and Gabriel held them up. He took a look at them and pulled a face as he began going through the pages. “What?” He tilted his head in confusion.

“What’s wrong, can you not read it?”

“No, I can read it, but it’s a little vague and it lists—not one—but _two_ locations. I mean, my ancient Egyptian is a little rusty, but I get the gist of it. I dunno, maybe get a second opinion.”

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Am I missing something?”

“Our second opinion is Crowley. Can you tell Balthazar to get him here?”

“I can do better than that.” Gabriel snapped his fingers, “Done.”

Sitting behind him desk and all, was Crowley, with a glass of scotch raised up, ready to take a drink. He stopped mid movement and raised an eyebrow, “Can I help you, boys?”

Gabriel pivoted on his heel and handed the translations to the ex-demon, the pages making a rustling sound. They watched as he made the same expressions that Gabriel had just a few minutes earlier. “Well, good news and bad news. Good news is the indications are fairly simple, bad news is that there are apparently two pieces.”

The archangel turned back to Sam and Dean, shrugging. “Sorry fellas. I would have liked to have been wrong. Maybe we’ll be lucky and they won’t be that hard to find. I doubt it, but stranger things have happened. I should know.” He smiled, winking at them.

“So where are they?” Cas spoke up from where he sat on the sofa.

“Long story short,” Crowley leaned back, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair, lacing his fingers together, “someplace hot and someplace cold.”

“That’s it?”

“ _Really_ hot and really cold.” Gabriel offered.

“If that’s all…” Crowley gave Gabriel a pointed look.

“Right. Class dismissed.” Another snap of his fingers and he was gone, back where Gabriel summoned him from.

“Okay, so where does that put us?”

“My guess? The cold is probably Antarctica or something. The hot could be anything from a volcano to the desert. I’m going with desert first because it’s easier.”

“So we just need to comb every frozen zone and desert on the planet…”

 “I feel like they’ll have some sort of resonance though. Being angels we can usually pick up on that sort of thing.” He made a gesture with his hands.

“We?”

“Yeah! Lucky for you guys is I happen to have free time to help.” Gabriel flopped back into an armchair by the sofa, legs crossed at the ankles, leaning his head on his hand.

Cas walked up and stood next to Dean, who wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him to his side, “What of the war?”

“As of now it’s died back down after the initial attack. I don’t think they realized how big of a force we had. I also may have sent them a little message to say hello.” He said with a sly expression and an eyebrow wiggle. Something about his look made Dean wish that he could have seen whatever the ‘message’ was, and he also doubted it was little. Gabriel just didn’t do little, he was always go big or go home.

 

Speaking of go big or go home, Dean Winchester was now standing next to a penguin. ‘ _A freaking penguin!’_ He couldn’t help the goofy grin on his face. He didn’t think he would ever get used to being an angel. There were plains of snow and ice stretching as far as the eye could see. Another perk of being an angel was that weather extremes no longer bothered him. When Gabriel had grabbed onto and transported them, he had tensed up, expecting to feel the frigid air assaulting his skin. While he could sense the cold, it didn’t affect him.

Things got even better when one of the baby penguins seemed to take a liking to Cas and started following him around, waddling after him.

“Dean, this isn’t funny!”

Dean put his hands up in a placating gesture, trying to wipe the smile off his face and failing miserably.

Cas took a few steps and the penguin followed again, making a tiny squeaking sound when it stopped and looked up at him. He squinted at the small creature and tilted his head. Which Dean thought was one of the cutest fucking things he had ever seen. Cas made a shooing motion at it that only earned him a reciprocated head tilt and another squeak. Sighing, he decided to ignore it for now because they had more important things to do.

The three of them decided to split up to try and cover more ground.

“How will I know if I’m near it?”

“Trust me, you’ll know.”

“That’s comforting.”, Dean mumbled before fluttering off.

 

Dean had been flying around for about forty minutes when he felt a sharp sensation that punched the breath out of him. He landed abruptly and stumbled before going down to his knees. ‘’You’ll know.’ _Yeah, no shit._ ’ Shaking his head, he called out to Cas and Gabriel. Upon arriving Gabriel let out a low whistle.

“Man, this thing’s got some juice tied to it.”

Gabriel started walking around, trying to find the point where the sensation was strongest. Reaching an area in particular he walked on, felt it get slightly weaker and walked back. “This is it I guess. I’m goin’ in!”

He stood with his feet shoulder width apart and held his hands in front of him, palms down. Unwinding his grace, he pushed it out through his hands, feeling it burrow down through the snow and ice. The celestial particles slipped further and further down into the frozen depths, the power of the tablet strengthening with every inch. When the fingers of his grace reached the tablet and grasped it, teleporting it to the surface and into his hands he gasped sharply, reeling back on his heels. He vaguely heard Dean call out and grasp his arm to keep him from falling as the jolt of power tore through him like a shot. Touching the tablet felt like holding on to a high voltage wire, but instead of electricity it was filled with holy power. He knew exactly what that sensation was, though it had been thousands of years sense he had last felt it…at least before he had been resurrected. A breathy laugh passed his lips.

“I get it now.”

“Get what?” Dean’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. He had no idea what the archangel was talking about and was beginning to worry that he had cracked.

Gabriel brushed his fingers over the etched stone, feeling the power ripple beneath his fingertips. “This one wasn’t written by Metatron.”

Cas’ eyes widened and goose-bumps ran along his skin as the implication of that statement hit home. “You don’t mean-“

“Oh yeah. Looks like the Heaven tablet was written by the big guy himself. That explains it being in separate pieces. Prooobably shouldn’t let anyone else touch this, by the way.” As if on cue, Gabriel shivered involuntarily at the continued presence from the stone. With a snap of his fingers, he encased the tablet half in glass for safety purposes.

 

When Gabriel had asked Balthazar to go with him to find the other half of the Heaven tablet, he jumped at the opportunity. Not because he was particularly enthused about it, but rather, he needed some distraction.

Over the time he spent with Crowley, it was obvious that there was something there and the tension between them had been building. It burned under every action and it was only a matter of time until it broke, but both Balthazar and Crowley were being stubborn and waiting for the other to cross that line. Each of them would sneak careless touches here and there, maybe lean in and speak just a little too close. For Balthazar, what really tested him was how unaffected Crowley seemed—aside from the dark, lust laced glances. He was always so damn composed.

In one instance of attempting to break his composure, Balthazar wrapped his arms leisurely around Crowley’s shoulders from behind, lightly teasing the fingertips of his left hand against his cheek, his eyes crinkled at the corners. For a brief moment Crowley leaned into the touch and relaxed before snapping out of his reverie and swatting at the molesting appendage like it was a gnat. Balthazar simply laughed softly and pulled away, moving out a distance from him and putting his hands in his pockets, his eyes practically twinkling.

As such, he needed a reprieve from his thoughts before he combusted from sexual frustration. What better way to do that than searching for a God touched tablet in the desert. He must say it didn’t disappoint either, however; somehow his thoughts had wandered back to the dark haired warlock.

**Balthazar: That awkward moment when…**

Crowley did a subtle double-take, caught a bit off guard. An attached picture showed an irate looking man in a head wrap with a machete on the back of a camel headed towards the photographer.

**Crowley: I take it the tablet hunting is going well, then. What did you take that picture with, a potato?**

The response he got made him glare, squinty eyed, at his phone.

**Balthazar: You should know, _Fergus_. **

The following statement, however, had him rather intrigued.

**Balthazar: But I would like to see you do better riding on the back of a fleeing camel.**

He wasn’t sure what he expected to get as a response, but that had not been it.

**Crowley: Ah, so you’ve met your spirit animal then, _Balty_? **

On the other end of the world, Balthazar made an indignant noise.

**Balthazar: Duck you.**

**Crowley: Quack quack, love.**

**Balthazar: Blasted autocor-adsjbg**

**Balthazar: Like oh em gee u r sooo hawt, we should totally have the se-ak.g.l**

**Balthazar: Disregard that.**

Crowley raised an eyebrow before typing out a reply.

**Crowley: What happened there?**

**Balthazar: Gabriel happened.**

**Crowley: I thought you were on a camel?**

**Balthazar: I am. Gabriel is steering.**

Now that _really_ had his attention. An archangel and an angel riding on the back of a camel sounded like the set-up for a joke.

**Crowley: Pics or it didn’t happen. >;P **

Crowley tapped his fingers on his large wooden desk while waiting for a response.

**Balthazar: Ask and you shall receive…**

The picture showed Balthazar in his normal apparel, coupled with a large pair of designer sunglasses with an enthusiastic Gabriel in front of him, his fist punching the air as he egged the furry tan creature to go faster.

Somehow, Crowley didn’t think that particular biblical phrase had something like this in mind, but who was he to argue with an angel.

 

When Balthazar had arrived back at Crowley’s house, he sprawled out lazily next to him on his sofa, arms lying on the back of the seat and legs spread, head laid back.

Out of his peripheral, Balthazar could see Crowley rake his eyes over him.

“Like what you see?”

“Possibly.” The corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk, but he remained otherwise calm at being called out. Which naturally he would, and all Balthazar wanted to do was smash his composure to bits. “Pity I can’t do anything about that.”

That was it for Balthazar, shredding the last ounce of his patience. He moved in a blink and poised over Crowley, pinning his hands above his head, his thumbs over his pulse points on his wrists. He waited for a beat, feeling his heart-rate build under his skin.

“You may look calm, but your pulse says otherwise.”

Crowley let out a panting breath, a smirk on his lips and he suddenly snapped his legs open, causing Balthazar to fall between them. Balthazar’s eyes drew wide and his mouth slack.

“There is a fine line between being calm, and aroused, angel.” When he said the word aroused it came out as a smooth purr. His tone was steady and didn’t tell of how shook up he was, though by now his pulse was skittering under Balthazar’s thumbs. “Well? Are you just going to lay there or-“

Crowley was cut off as Balthazar kissed him hard and rough, the levee finally breaking.

Having been a crossroad’s demon, he had experienced many kisses. Some of them had been more enthusiastic than others, but never had he been kissed quite like this. He could feel power skimming just below the surface like an impending storm, reminding him that Balthazar was an angel, a soldier. While that may have deterred most, it only bolstered his lust. Crowley moaned softly and it was the first sign that Balthazar had of the crack in his slick façade. Breaking away from the kiss, eyes a thin ring of dark blue around blown pupils, he gave a loose roll of his hips, prying another moan from the man beneath him.

Threading his fingers in Crowley’s hair, he gave a sharp snap of his hips, Crowley’s jerking against his in response, breath catching in his throat. Pleasure washed over him in a wave and he captured Crowley’s mouth in another hungry kiss, tongue delving deep.

Crowley was only aware that Balthazar had moved them when he felt his soft mattress beneath him. Balthazar sat back on his haunches, tossing his jacket off and taking Crowley in, an animalistic glint to his eyes.

Wrapping his arm under his back, he scooped him up into his lap, his thighs straddling his own, dematerializing their clothing into nothingness. Using magic, he slicked up his middle and index finger, pressing them inside him as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip. Crowley’s fingers gripped his shoulders and he rocked back against his fingers, a growled command of more ghosting across his lips. Adding a third finger he twisted them roughly, dragging a surprised moan out of him. Sloppily preparing him, he removed his fingers and gripped Crowley’s hips, raising him up to slide his length inside. He gripped harder as the tight heat closed around his shaft, sending a shudder up his spine. He slid his right hand up his back, tongue laving at his neck as he set a rhythm.

He wasn’t disappointed as Crowley met him on each thrust, making unabashed noises, nails dragging down his back and teeth scraping across his sweaty skin. He could see the fire burning in the ex-demon’s eyes and felt his own fire answering it.

Pressing him back down against the mattress, his pace became fevered, breath coming out in pants. Crowley’s legs were wrapped tight around his waist and he muttered nonsensically before he was driven over the edge, body tensing and lights dancing before his eyes. When Balthazar tipped over after him he felt his grace slowly fly apart, molecules separating inside of him, before pulling back together. For his part, Crowley barely registered the crackle and pop sound that followed, though what did draw his attention was the bright electrical blue light filling Balthazar’s eyes. A few seconds later it dimmed down and bled out, leaving his normal blue color in its wake. Taking in Crowley’s appearance beneath him, Balthazar smiled. He looked thoroughly debauched and he relished in the thought that it was all because of him.

He rolled off of Crowley and onto the other side of the large bed, savoring the coolness of the sheets against his sweaty skin. Looking over a few minutes later, the angel snickered, Crowley was out cold.

‘ _Definitely a power-bottom_ ’, Balthazar mused to himself sleepily before he dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t realize how much I wanted to see Cas with a penguin until now. So I remedied that. :3  
> Thanks for reading~!


	21. Calling All Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So it could be somewhere like-“, he turned his laptop around to face Dean and Gabriel, “-here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I wish I had a beta to help with my indecision with ideas. >_>; Also, update is later than usual because I accidentally got sucked into tumblr and fanart. Ahaha~ whoops. :x I would probably be the kind of author that can’t make deadlines. Lolz

Dean rubbed a palm over his face, “So no tablet?”

“Affirmative, Captain Kirk.”

“Captain Kirk? I thought you were Kirk?”

“I’m Uhura.” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows. “Anyhoodles, we still have half a tablet MIA and all we got from the desert was an old spell book.” There was a noise from a room in the back of the bunker that sounded like a zombie from a horror movie. “And a camel.” He propped his feet up on the table and tipped his chair back, taking a bite of a candy bar.

Sam’s eyes widened and he blew out a breath, shaking his head before looking back at what he was tapping up on his laptop. One thing Sam could say about Gabriel, things never got boring with him around.

“Excuse me, what? I could have sworn I heard you say that you brought back a camel.” Dean gestured at him, urging Gabriel to correct him.

“Oh _relax._ ” He waved him off. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, I’ll take it back later. We bonded in the heat of battle!”

“Battle?”

“Like I said before, my Egyptian is a little rusty. I meant to tell a guy that his mother was beautiful, but I accidentally said that I wanted to sleep with her. It was all a big misunderstanding.”

“That’s…I don’t know what that is. But where do we go from here?”

“I think I have an idea.” Sam looked over at the pair of them, “You said a place of intense heat, right? And obviously really old, so I was wondering, is it possible for the tablet to have effects on things around it? Like a natural disaster?”

Gabriel’s skin was tingling with energy just being in proximity of the tablet half on the table. “I definitely wouldn’t rule that out.”

“So it could be somewhere like-“, he turned his laptop around to face Dean and Gabriel, “-here?”

Gabriel’s chair clacked down as he leaned forward to look at the screen. “Sammy, you’re a genius!”

“Pompeii? Like, the Roman village that a volcano opened a can of whoop-ass on,Pompeii?”

“The one and only, Dean-o.” Gabriel looked at an imaginary watch on his wrist, “We depart in five~.”

The four of them heard a muffled yelp from the back and Charlie came running into the library, a broom in her hands as she hid around the corner looking frantic.

“There’s a camel in the kitchen!”, she stage-whispered across to them. This was so _not_ what she meant when she had wished that things were more magical.

 

The angel trio arrived in the middle of the city of Pompeii, stone roads replacing the smooth flooring of the bunker beneath their feet. The ruins of the city surrounded them on either side of the path that they stood on, crumbling, stone walls worn down by disaster and time. The scene was made more disturbing by the utter lack of sound, which struck Dean as odd.

“Why isn’t anyone else here? Isn’t this supposed to be a tourist attraction?”

“I didn’t want us to be bothered, so I sent them to Pompeii yesterday, so we have Pompeii today all to ourselves.”

“You-okay, you know what? Never mind. Let’s just find this freakin’ tablet.”

“That’s the idea.” Gabriel pointed straight up the road, “You go over yonder. Little bro, you go that way.” He pointed to the right. “And I’ll be over here. Get a holy boner, give the rest of us a call.”

While Gabriel was flying, he took time to ponder over what they would do when they got the other half of the tablet. He knew they would need to put it together with the other half, but what would happen? Were they separate for a reason? Would the power held within the two tablets be amplified once reunited? There were just so many unknown variables that could dash their plans to hell. The biggest question of all, was whether this tablet was the act of the merciful God that performed miracles, or the wrathful God that set plagues and floods upon the world.

As the questions tumbled through his head, he felt the familiar spark shoot up his spine. Stopping abruptly, he landed, sending out a mental message to Dean and Cas. ‘ _My spidey senses are tingling~_ ’ Approaching closer to the sensation, he estimated that this one was much closer to the surface since the city had been buried and essentially preserved. He surmised that it must be here after being expelled from the volcano, all those years ago, along with the ash that blanketed the city.

Standing over the spot where the energy spiked, he sent his grace winding down through the sediment, feeling it shift around the bright blue tendrils as they dug into the earth. He could practically feel his teeth buzz when they wrapped around the tablet half and brought it topside.

It looked like he would get answers to his questions soon enough.

 

Balthazar stood in Crowley’s study, looking at the various books lining the shelves and the little odds and ends. One of the objects was a small crystalline figure that hovered in the air, no doubt another result of Crowley testing the new boundaries of his magic. Speak of the devil, he entered at that moment, raising an eyebrow at the large, very old, black book on his desk.

“What’s this?”

“A book.”

“No, really? I had no idea.” This must be what other people felt like talking to him.

“Gabriel and I found it while in Egypt.”

“And he just let you have it?”

Balthazar inspected his fingernails and replied nonchalantly, “It may have followed me home.”

Crowley flipped the cover open and almost choked on the piece of butterscotch in his mouth.

“The bloody Book of the Dead? You’re kidding.”

“You’re welcome.” Balthazar smirked, closing a small wooden box with a dog tag inside that had ‘Growley’ engraved on it. Moving along he came to a flower in a vase, withered and showing no signs of life. Humming to himself, he pulled it out, lightly touching his fingertips to the petals. Crowley watched as color seeped back into it and it rose up from its crooked state, once again proud and full of life.

He stopped in place when he received a message from Gabriel, tilting his head slightly as he listened.

“They’ve got the other half of the tablet and are going to put it together.” He sighed wearily, “Pray it doesn’t blow up.” He placed the flower on the desk and went to the bunker, a nervous energy settling in his stomach.

 

Upon arriving, Balthazar had to fight to keep his knees from buckling. If he had any doubts that this was father’s doing, they were quickly abolished. The two halves sat on opposite ends of the table, both encased in glass to deter accidental touches. Sam, Charlie, Kevin, Dean, Cas, Gabriel and Balthazar all stood around, staring at them as if they were bombs ready to go off. Dean had wanted Sam, Charlie and Kevin to leave, but they had argued that they were in this too. Not to mention that they couldn’t feel anything from the tablets, with the exception of Kevin, who said they felt like the other tablets for the most part.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, the glass casings disappearing. Placing his hands on the pieces, he licked his lips nervously before sliding them together. Everyone’s breath was bated as it sealed itself together, becoming one.

The reaction was immediate. Dean, Cas, Gabriel and Balthazar all stood rigid, light glowing under their skin and their eyes neon blue as one phrase fell from their lips in unison.

“OIAD OI EMNA.” The words vibrated in the air, strong and sure.

They all collapsed after, like marionettes that had their strings severed, bodies listless on the floor.

“Dean!” Sam ran to his brother’s side, hand flying to his neck to feel for a pulse. He seemed fine physically, but it did little to calm him after the spectacle that he had just witnessed. He was sure that what they said must have been Enochian, but had no idea what it meant or when they would come to. _If_ they would come to. But jumping to conclusions would do them no good, for now, they could only wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pic I used as reference to describe Pompeii: http://tinyurl.com/lqt94p2  
> I kind of miss Growley. XD  
> As always, thanks to everyone who has commented, kudos’d and bookmarked so far! Really brightens my day. : )


	22. Strife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story has been Crowlazar central lately because I have so many things to accomplish before certain plot points, but we’ll be back to the other boys after—what I hope is—a pleasant surprise next chapter~

Gabriel was the first of the quartet to awaken, groaning as he came to, feeling like his body had been replaced with taffy. The last time he had felt like this was when he had lost a bet against Thor.

Sam noticed him rousing and went to question him, worried and wanting answers, only to be cut off when Gabriel raised a finger. Nobody was getting any answers until he could feel his legs again. Sam had to give Charlie and Kevin his most reassuring look when they glanced at him with concern. For all they knew, the tablet had turned the archangel into some kind of terminator.

Feeling less like Gumby, Gabriel rolled over onto his stomach and clumsily pushed himself up onto his feet, giving Sam his ability to speak back.

“What the hell happened?”

“Daddy gave us a spanking.” he grabbed his foot and pulled it back in a stretch, “Basically, he’s not happy.”

“You all spoke Enochian, what did you say?”

“OIAD OI EMNA. It means ‘God is here’. Letting us know that he’s watching and we should behave. I’ll bet my family jewels that we weren’t the only angels affected.” Gabriel shook his head briskly, still shaking off the godly override.

“So they’ll all be okay?” He motioned to the angels still on the floor.

“The others should wake up as soon as the shock from the holy pimp slap wears off.” He picked up the tablet and inspected it, the smooth etched stone warm beneath his fingers, before sitting it back down with a clunk on the table. The energy emitting from it had died down considerably, probably used as the catalyst for the message. Slouching down in the chair he propped his feet up on the chair next to him.

Sam was running things through his mind before his thoughts ran into a road block.

“Wait, this tablet is thousands of years old. Does that mean he knew all this stuff was going to happen?”

“He _is_ omniscient.” Gabriel smirked. “But to better answer your question, imagine the start of a path.” He poked a spot in the air and a light hovered there. “As you walk down it, it branches out into other pathways.” Moving his finger down from the one point, a line of light trailed from his fingertip and he placed three fingers out, dividing from the one line into three. “Either one of these pathways can be the one that occurs, and just because one occurs here doesn’t mean it occurs in another universe. This universe could have easily ended with the apocalypse, but you and sir drools a lot on the floor there, stopped it.” He snapped his fingers and the lights vanished. “This tablet is only here right now because we went down all the right—or wrong—paths to get to this point. Follow?”

“Trippy.” Charlie said before pressing her hands against her cheeks, as if that would help her process it better. “The other alternate universes actually exist and don’t just become void possibilities when things don’t happen here?”

“Yep _._ I would bet there’s a universe where you aren’t a lesbian and like boys! Hell, there’s probably one where you _are_ a boy.”

Charlie looked really weirded out by the notion and that was a pathway she really didn’t want to go down. Lucky for her, Balthazar and Castiel began to wake up, Dean—still practically a fledgling angel—would be the last to revive minutes later.

“He’s my cherry pie.”, Dean grumbled as he was coming to, drawing amused looks from everyone.

“Aw, you hear that little bro?”

Cas tilted his head, “I have no idea what that means, but he likes pie, so I presume that is a good thing.”

Sam and Cas moved to his side, helping him to his feet.

Dean remembered Gabriel bringing the tablet together, then a phrase pulsed into him and it was all he could concentrate on. It was insistent, pervasive, and commanded him to obey it. It pushed his grace to expand and foreign words fell from his tongue, but he somehow understood them. However, they left him with more questions than answers.

“God is here? So if he’s here, why isn’t he doing anything?”

“Doing anything? He made you an angel and brought my ass back. I would say that qualifies as doing something.”

“Yeah, but he can’t drop by and say hello?”

“From where I stand, he just did.”

“That’s what that was all about? A voicemail from God?”

“More or less.”

“This is fantastic and everything, but can I leave now? The tablet is in one piece and didn’t melt us into fleshy puddles.”

“Sure, I don’t see why you can’t go back to your boyfriend.”

“He’s not-“ Balthazar huffed and waved him off before parting from the bunker.

“Sounds like somebody’s emotionally constipated.”---

 

Balthazar was the last angel to want to seek out conflict, and yet here he was, about to say something to Crowley that would most definitely conjure strife.

During the past couple of days, since Gabriel had mentioned it, Balthazar couldn’t stop thinking of just where he and Crowley stood. Ideally, he should have been fine with whatever it was they had, but some god awful part of him was still very much an angel and invested in _feelings._ As much as the word made him want to roll his eyes or smite himself.He wondered if maybe it would be better if whatever it was remained unspoken to make things simpler. But, he knew that would catch up to them eventually, if what Balthazar had seen while curing the man was anything to go by. Thus, why he felt the nagging need to say something, so that neither of them would crash and burn. However, if Crowley wasn’t invested in it, he wasn’t sure where that left him. Unfortunately, he reacted much like he thought he would.

“To what extent are we involved?”

The change in Crowley’s demeanor was swift, almost as if Balthazar could visibly see all his walls being thrown up. There was a hardness to his eyes, the brown irises almost looking black. “That’s not a path you want to go down, angel.” There was a definite edge to his tone, urging him away from the subject.

“That’s where I disagree. Surely I’m not the only one aware of-” Balthazar motioned between them, “-whatever this is.” Indicating the ease of being around one another that they had.

“Oh bug off!” Crowley snapped before looking away.

Something about his demeanor was poking under Balthazar’s skin, like he was missing something that was right there. Finally, a realization dawned on Balthazar and he smiled sadly.

“You know, I think I get it now. It’s not enough that you’re afraid of not being loved…you’re also afraid _of_ being loved.”

“Please, do you know how ridiculous you sound? _Me_? Afraid of love? I used to torture for a living! I don’t fear anything, let alone that preposterous four letter word. I’ll leave it for horny teenagers and sappy people fawning over flowers and listening to songs about romance.”

“Is it so ridiculous? No, I think you’re afraid that if someone loves you,” Balthazar stepped in close to him, looking down at him with cool blue eyes, two fingers pressed over his heart, “that they’ll stop, then you’ll have tasted it, only to have lost it. You can’t hide it from me, I was present when you spilled all your secrets, if you recall.”

Balthazar paused for a moment as his eyes caught something, “Also, fawning over flowers, you say?” Balthazar’s mouth curled a bit at the corners as he pulled the rejuvenated flower he had left behind from the breast pocket of Crowley’s suit jacket and twirled it between his fingers, before leaving in a flutter of wings.

Crowley sneered, “Bullocks.”

 

The next day found Balthazar and Crowley very distinctly ignoring each other on opposite sides of the room, the tension between them heavy and prickly. Gabriel had wanted them all there to tell them of the newest development, which included the current pair at odds.

“I’m just going to cut to the chase, Bartholomew sent me a message asking me to convene for a truce.”

“And you don’t think it’s a trap?” Sam piped up from the sofa.

“Oh I absolutely think it’s a trap, which is why I want everyone here where it’s warded. I expect that dad’s message startled them, but I doubt it put any sense into their heads to stop this crap.”

“So why go at all?”

“Because I can’t be sure that he doesn’t actually want a truce.”

“What if it’s an ambush or something?”

Gabriel snorted, “Don’t worry about me.”

“No offense, but that’s pretty cocky for a guy that was just resurrected two months ago.” Sam didn’t really want to say it, but somebody had to.

“Cause I got killed by _Lucifer._ Lucifer, Bartholomew and his rag-tag group of angels, are not. First angel blade I see and they’re all going on an express trip to Mongolia. So if I’m not back, in say ten minutes, assume that negotiations are under way. Otherwise, I’ll be seein’ ya.” Without further protest, he was gone, leaving them all nervously waiting.

It wasn’t even a minute later that four angels touched down in the library, everyone jolting out of their seats.

“What gives?” Dean produced his angel blade and eyed them warily. Weren’t all the angels grounded but those on Gabriel’s side? Furthermore, how had they found the bunker?

Balthazar stepped forward ahead of everyone and turned to Dean, “They’re supposed to be some of ours.” But he couldn’t imagine why they would be here and the timing was too perfect not to be suspicious.

“We came for the tablet.” They were traitors, then. It wasn’t that far a stretch that if they had tried to convince Balthazar to join them, that they would have asked others from their garrison.

“How did you find the place?” Dean angled himself more between the angels and the humans.

“The tablet, we felt father’s presence so strongly.”

They should have known that the energy the tablet was giving off would override the wards, but they were so busy paying attention to so many other things that it completely slipped under the radar.

“Why do you want to take it, don’t you know we’re trying to reverse the spell that sealed Heaven?”

“Yes, but we cannot leave the tablet in your hands. The ones who blatantly disregard testament.”

Dean could make out Crowley slowly moving to the end of the long table, none of the angels looking at him. Were they smart, they would have been, but what harm could a human possibly do? Their superiority complex was what Crowley was counting on. During a previous meeting, while no one was paying attention, he had drawn out a banishing sigil on the underside of the table. Maybe being the King of Hell had made him paranoid, but was it really paranoia when people really were always trying to kill you?

The angels moved, two surging forward to be blocked by Balthazar, one moving to take Kevin and the other to the tablet. Crowley felt a brief surge of panic when the two angels grabbed ahold of Balthazar. If he used the sigil now, he would be banished with them…but if he didn’t, they would get everything and more than likely kill them all anyways.

Taking a dagger from his jacket he quickly slid it across his palm, the metal stinging as it sliced through his skin, before slamming it underneath the table. He looked away from the skirmish as he did so, not wanting to see Balthazar whisked off with them. If he was lucky, maybe Dean and Castiel would be sent to the same place, but he knew better than that.

Crowley was a firm believer that actions spoke louder than words, and the fact he hesitated to banish them because he was actually worried for the feathered blonde…well, maybe the angel had been right after all. He could only hope that he would be alive when he freed him from the angels and that he could actually work up the nerve to admit to said things. Regardless, human or not, he was going to make sure those angels regretted laying a hand on him.

When he looked up, for the first time since he had been cured, Sam could swear he could see the devil in Crowley’s eyes.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enochian translations via http://tikaboo.com/enochian.jsp . Is it accurate? I don’t know, I don’t speak Enochian. ;P  
> Um…I hope their relationship development didn’t seem rushed. I had to push my hand because the plot. :x And I hope my Crowley and Balty weren’t too far off. It’s difficult trying to make things emotional without making them OOC. >_>; But you know it can’t be that easy for them because when someone drops a bombshell like ‘I deserve to be loved!’ you know they have some baggage that needs sorted out.


	23. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I misjudged, so the little surprise is next chapter. Sorry~ ^^;

Gabriel’s arrival back at the bunker was announced with a loud crack of thunder, the sound muffled through the thick walls. His stance was rigid, coiled to lash out, small frame belying the power beneath, amber eyes hard and dark. Before he had been banished, Balthazar had sent a message to Gabriel about the invading angels, hoping that he would be back in time.

He started to pace about the room in aggravation, trying to dispel some of his anger before there were more adverse effects than a thunderstorm.

“I should have _known_ the tablet would act as a beacon _._ ” There was another long roll of thunder and they could hear the walls of the bunker creak under the mayhem roiling about outside. “Lure me away and leave all of you wide open!” The lights overhead flickered and numerous bulbs shattered, shooting out sparks. If the evidence of it wasn’t enough, even being humans they could feel the numinous power emanating from the archangel. He placed his palms flat on the table, head dipped down and eyes closed as he focused on restraining his grace, the effort much like trying to lasso a tornado.

Gradually, he was able to collect himself, exhaling slowly through his nose, breath fluttering the hair around his face.

“Now,” He pushed his hand through his hair, putting it back into place, “we are going to wait for Dean and Castiel to get back, and then we are going to go get Balthazar back. When we go, you four are going to throw up angel wards in a room and stay there. Do you copy?” His tone held a forced, clipped steadiness.

“Three.” Crowley corrected him.

“What?”

“I’m going with you, so the _three_ of them are going to stay here.”

“You’re going to go with us to fight angels?” Gabriel asked him skeptically.

“Don’t worry about me. I _will_ need a lift to get some things, however. Getting my arse flayed won’t do us any good.”

“You have five minutes.”

“Give me three.” Crowley threw back and, with a snap of his fingers, Gabriel sent him to his house. All Crowley needed to grab was his gun—angel bullets loaded in the chamber—and an angel blade that he had kept.

 

Just as Gabriel had brought Crowley back, Cas and Dean fluttered in, looking wet and pissed.

“Sorry it took so long to get back, there was a giant ass storm.” Dean wiped a hand over his dripping face.

“Charlie, can you track where they went?”

“Huh?” Charlie startled slightly, realizing he was talking to her. She was brave, but she was also smart, which meant staying out of the way of the angry archangel. “Yeah. Yes, I can do that. No problem.” She jogged to her room to fetch her tablet before coming back, fingers tapping on the surface as she sorted through the data.

“Let’s see, this is you leaving and coming back. Here are two markers leaving which must be Dean and Cas so our guys are—here.” She turned the tablet to Gabriel, address over the location. Gabriel couldn’t help but notice that she held it out at arm’s length, still trying to keep distance from him as precaution. Smiling slightly, he reached up and patted her on the head, which was supposed to be comforting but she looked like a frightened animal ready to bolt.

“Relax, you’re not the ones that should be worried.” His smile indicated that the angels that absconded with Balthazar were in for it. “Now, we are going to go there and when we get there, we’re going to look for any entrances. If there’s a back we’ll want to enter there, if not, we’ll just do this the old fashion way and charge in. Luckily, dealing with other angels; we won’t have to worry about wards. Any questions?” He gave a couple seconds pause, “Good.”

With a snap, they were standing in front of a building that was covered in raggedy tin panels, rusted and worn from exposure. The ground was blanketed in snow, large flurries continuing to fall. In a blink, Cas disappeared and returned.

“This is the only entrance into the place.” He announced into the frigid air, snow flurries kicked up around him the only indication that he had been gone.  

Gabriel nodded and started forwards, archangel blade sliding out into his palm, Castiel falling shortly behind.

“After you, Winchester.” Crowley wasn’t disillusioned, he knew that angel bullets and magic or not, he was the least capable of the four here.

 

Upon entering, there was a narrow hallway leading to a thick metal door of a cell at the end. They were immediately spotted and an angel went to speak to Gabriel, but he shoved his blade harshly into the angel’s chest, wiping them from the earth. He was done giving his brother’s and sister’s chances. Every time he did he only got screwed over.

Several other angels came out of the rooms lining the sides of the hall at the noise and the skirmish began. Dean had grown to be able to keep up against other angels, though he narrowly avoided being stabbed—and probably would have been—had Cas not blocked the angel’s blade with his own. The near miss had sent a strong wave of panic through him, startling him into action.

With all the angels heavily involved in the fight, Crowley made his way to the end of the hall.

The door to the cell flung open, smacking hard against the stone wall loudly and echoing raucously as Crowley entered.

“Hands off my angel!” He yelled, raising his gun and firing an angel bullet into the forehead of an angel standing next to Balthazar.

He was upright, but slumped limply and unconscious, held up by manacles around his wrists. His vessel was covered in blood, clothes tattered and cut. With a wave of his hand, Crowley broke the bindings, catching Balthazar when he fell forward. The angel’s arms fell over his shoulders.

The last of the traitorous angels dealt with, Gabriel took them all back to the bunker, and Crowley—with care he didn’t even know he possessed—gingerly lay Balthazar down on the sofa. Giving a curt nod to Gabriel he had the archangel send him home. He would have stayed, but he needed to sort himself out before dealing with the angel.

 

After fetching Sam, Charlie and Kevin from a warded storage room in the back, Cas and Dean retired to their room.

Dean could tell that something was a little off with Cas since the fight, but he wasn’t quite prepared to be shoved roughly onto the bed. With a quick movement he was joining him, mouth hungrily on his, hands working deftly to undo the fly of his pants. He had never quite seen Cas like this and, while he was incredibly turned on, he was also concerned.

“Cas, what’s-“ he choked off with a moan when Cas ground his hips hard and slow against his, eyes burning with lust.

“Don’t-” he nipped at his neck, kissing his way down to his collarbone, “-ever be so reckless again.” Gripping the hem of Dean’s shirt, he quickly pulled it over his head and tossed it to the side. He continued kissing down his chest and stomach, tongue dipping into the crease at his hip as he slid his pants and boxers off in a fluid movement. Dean sucked in a breath when he felt him bite at the same spot and suck firmly.

Cas removed his clothing before leaning forward and grabbing lube from the drawer, coating his fingers liberally with the liquid. Dean felt slightly anxious, having not been at this end of things yet, though that was quickly abated when Cas kissed him firmly and open-mouthed. His tongue moving smoothly against his as he moved the tip of his middle finger against his entrance, rubbing back and forth, massaging the tight ring of muscle. At a leisurely pace, he worked the digit inside until his finger moved slickly in and out.

Cas broke away from the kiss, resting his forehead against Dean’s who was panting softly, not used to the new sensation.

“Are you alright?”

Dean hummed an affirmative in response, swallowing a moan and cupping Cas’ jaw, pressing a chaste, wet kiss to his lips. Sticking another finger in him, he crooked his fingers and startled a loud moan out of Dean who had not been expecting the stab of pleasure.

“Holy shit.” Dean said breathily, now starting to rock his hips and grind back against Cas’ fingers, hands gripping his shoulders. “Yeah, yea-nn!” He let out a keening moan and arched off the mattress, breath hitching as his fingers slid over his prostate again. Cas could feel his pulse pounding, enraptured by the sight of Dean beneath him.

Removing his fingers, he urged Dean to roll over onto his hands and knees, who gladly complied. Lining the head of his shaft up, he slowly slid inside, Dean shivering lightly at the slight burn as his tight walls were stretched. As he fully entered him, he clenched his blue eyes shut and moaned, the heat threatening to consume him.

Cas placed feather-light kisses to his shoulder-blade and rubbed his hands soothingly against the sweat dampened skin of his back, giving the hunter time to adjust.

Dean bit down on his lip and moved against Cas, fingers grasping at the sheets, Cas’ hips snapping against his in response, sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. He set a hard, slow pace; punching the breath out of Dean with each thrust, skin making a lewd slapping sound in the dark room. Gripping one hand on Dean’s hip, Cas slid the other around the front of Dean’s torso and wrapped his fingers around his hard cock, thumb sliding over the slit before stroking him.

Dean’s fingers were white knuckled where they gripped the sheets as he felt the familiar tightness in his lower stomach. A few more of Cas’ harsh thrusts had Dean coming, moaning as his seed spilling out messily on the sheets, body tensing as he felt the familiar expand and collapse of his grace. Dean’s ass clenching around his length was all it took to push Cas over, coming inside of him, breath catching in his throat and wings splaying out behind him before folding back and disappearing.

Pulling out, Cas lay down on his side next to Dean, facing him. Reaching over, he laced his fingers through Dean’s, causing a small smile to tug at his lips as he still got his breath back.

“We should do that again some time.” He said as he rubbed his thumb against one of Cas’ fingers. Cas huffed out a laugh and leaned over, planting a kiss to Dean’s cheek.

Smiling slyly, Cas whispered into his ear, “Anytime you like, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this at 6:00 in the morning…though I usually finish late anyways. Be gentle~ XD  
> Writing a truly angry Gabriel is hard. Cause he’s usually a funny guy and he can’t be funny when he’s pissed and it’s just like ‘Who are you? What am I doing??’.


	24. I'm on a Boat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Talk to me, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I could have Gabriel in a story and not have a chapter that’s a little crack-y. ;P I enjoyed writing this chapter~ So I hope you enjoy reading it! Love your faces! ^^

Balthazar had mended, things had ample time to settle down again, and there still wasn’t so much as a blip of Metatron on the computers. With the strike against them of the invasion and playing the waiting game, the mood was heavy hearted at the bunker and spirits were low. Far too depressing for Gabriel’s liking, which of course is how everyone found themselves standing gathered in the library that now functioned as a living room.

“Listen up you sad sacks, I’m taking you all on a vacation.” He leaned back and opened his hands, pitching his idea to everyone. The gesture also transported them and-

“I’m on a boat.” Kevin said, somewhat stunned. He looked down at himself after seeing everyone else, “And dressed like a pirate.”

They were on a large wooden ship with massive white sails; the figurehead was a rather busty mermaid with conch shells for a bra that would have made Madonna proud. There was definitely something to be said about Gabriel’s tastes…or lack thereof.

“This…is awesome!” Dean said as he propped his foot up on a railing, imitating the Captain Morgan pose, the tails of his jacket flapping in the wind.

“Um, what if the computer picks up Metatron while we’re here?” Sam asked, taking the obnoxiously large hat off his head, the white feather on top fluffing in his face, causing him to splutter.

“No worries, we’re in a pocket dimension. When we go back, we’ll be right back when we left.” Gabriel clapped his hands together, “Now, think of your dream place and concentrate on it. Happy thoughts!” He instructed everyone, smirking, though for a brief moment his smirk faltered before falling back into place and doing another of his infamous snaps. Everyone had been sent away…except for Sam.

Once they were all sent away, Gabriel frowned at Sam and waved his hand, the pirate outfits changing back to normal clothes. “Nothing? Not even Disney world?”

“I just-I don’t have…” Sam rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, expression openly displaying his discomfort.

“Wow, you just killed Tinkerbell.” Gabriel walked over to a section of railing in front of the helm, throwing his legs over it and sitting down, patting a spot next to him. “Talk to me, kiddo.”

“What? I’m not talking to you about it.” He laughed in disbelief. “It’s not the kind of stuff that you can talk about and make everything better. And it’s not like you would understand anyways.”

Gabriel fixed him with a look, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head for emphasis, “Try me, you’d be surprised.”

“No! I’m not talking to you.”

“Aren’t you always saying you shouldn’t keep things pent up?”

“Yeah, but…” He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the palm of his hand with his thumb.

“I’ve got all day, samsquatch-oh, I gotta wake Charlie up.”

“Huh?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and brought up a tv, a remote in his hand. Warily, Sam made his way over and looked on the screen to see Charlie—wearing a burgundy and gold tie—passed out in a massive room with a sky somehow visible in the ceiling overhead, four rows of tables and a long table at the front. A girl with brown bushy hair and a matching uniform approached her, using a spell to revive her. Charlie woke up looking star struck, eyes large and fixed on the girl, completely flustered. Snapping out of it, a large grin spread across her face.

“Is that?”

“She’s a wizard, Sammy. Well, witch.”

Sam smiled fondly as he watched her on tv, happy to see his friend so ecstatic. “I hope it’s accurate, cause she might try and gank you if it isn’t.” He said jokingly.

“To a T, since it comes from her gourd. Though I _may_ have made Hermione have a thing for the ladies.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Sam snorted and shook his head.

Gabriel pressed a button on the remote and changed the channel, the tv now showing Kevin.

He was dressed in a brown robe standing next to a short green creature and an old grey haired man, holding a lightsaber. The young prophet also looked ridiculously happy.

“I present to you, Kevin Solo.”

Sam tilted his head back and laughed, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

For the final time, Gabriel changed the channel, showing Dean alongside Cas. They weren’t the only ones there, however. They were also with Kevin, Charlie, and Sam in the makeshift living room of the bunker. Sam was beyond questioning how they could all be there accurately without actually being there by this point, though it was weird seeing himself. He felt his eyes well up slightly knowing that this was what made Dean happy and that he was part of it.

Sam finally walked over to the railing and sat down, green eyes looking down at his hands in his lap. Gabriel looked at him and switched off the television.

“It all started with the crap with Lucifer.” He absently picked at the fabric of his jeans, collecting his thoughts. “I mean, I hardly had the cookie-cutter life before that, but Dean was always there with me so I knew I wasn’t alone. But then I was and I just held on to whatever I could. I thought I was doing something good but I screwed up and wound up starting the apocalypse. I mean, I guess I ended it too which is a whole other mess.”

“Hmm, technically your brother triggered the start of the apocalypse, you just let Luci out. I mean, do you blame Dean for breaking the first seal?”

“What? Of course I don’t!”

“Gee, ya don’t think that’s a little hypocritical? Next!” Gabriel shouted, ready to punch holes in Sam’s next problem.

“You don’t get it. It took forever for Dean to trust me again, and to be honest, I’m not sure that he ever really has trusted me since. He was disgusted with me.”

“Hey, he got over it and he adores you, I mean who wouldn’t? And not to be a little harsh, but it could have been worse. He could have stabbed you in the heart and killed you, for instance.” Gabriel gave Sam a pointed look. “Ya know, just an example.”

Sam cringed, “Sorry, I guess you’re the last person I should be complaining about my brother to.”

“Meh, don’t worry about it. I’m totally over it.”

“…are you?”

Gabriel looked at him somberly, “Would you be? Maybe for you it was years ago, but for me it was just a few months. I realize mind you, that Luci was a bag of dicks, but we still grew up together. I was the youngest of the archangels and Luci was one of the ones that taught me all my tricks. In the end, I chose my side and he chose his. Anyways,” Gabriel waves his hands as if to fan away the memories, “continue.”

Sighing, Sam went on. “Well, in order to stop the apocalypse I let Lucifer in, and when I gained control I jumped in the cage.”

Gabriel looked at him shocked and concerned then, confused at how the younger Winchester could be sitting before him in that case.

“I was brought back soon after, but something got left behind.” Sam closed his eyes, trying to block it out, enjoying the feeling of the breeze off the sea.

Gabriel considered what the worst case scenario would be and once again marveled at the continued existence of the being before him. “Your soul.” He had just been stuck in Heaven with them while they feuded, not stuck in a cage after being the one responsible for sending them there. He could only imagine the torment his soul must have gone through. This was just another reason of why Gabriel admired the human race.

Sam nodded. “For over a year. When I got it back it was—well, I’m sure you can imagine. But I got better eventually thanks—and also no thanks kind of—to Cas. That’s a long story though. It’s what I did prior that bothers me.”

“Hmm, you did some bad shit while you had no soul. I’m so surprised.” Gabriel deadpanned and looked at him flatly.

“But I still killed those people! _Innocent_ people!”

“Cause someone did a piss-poor job of resurrecting your ass!” The archangel challenged. “You care now, which obviously means you’re not some murdering psychopath. I thought you were supposed to be the smart brother.”

“Me caring isn’t going to bring those people back.”

“No, it isn’t, but neither is kicking yourself over it. You can’t punish yourself for things that were out of your hands.” Things had apparently really gone downhill while he had been six feet under.

Sam sighed again, eyebrows furrowed and mouth in a tight frown. “I guess you’re right, not that it makes me feel much better. The worst of it all is that I feel like Dean is always on top of things and I’ll never measure up to that. He’s the ‘righteous man’ and now an angel and I’m just…whatever.”

“Ahh, and you thought I wouldn’t understand. Shame on you!”

“What?”

“Really, again, talking to me about brother issues? There have been a lot of things nagging at me since the big guy brought me back, but you know what the biggest one is? Out of my brothers, I’m the one that God chose to bring back. Not Michael, not Raphael, but me. The archangel that abandoned Heaven and sided with the humans because they couldn’t stand the fighting. How messed up is that? How screwed up do my brothers and sisters have to be that I’m plan A?”

“Maybe because you’re what we needed, someone on our side for once.”

Gabriel acknowledged the comment with a noncommittal noise, “Who knows.”

By now the sun was setting over the horizon, the sky painted in shades of pink, orange and purple, the sun illuminating the bottoms of the few clouds dotting the sky.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re my favorite human.” He kicked his foot out to the side, nudging Sam’s foot nearest to him.

Sam laughed and kicked his foot back, feeling much better than he had earlier. He continued watching the sunset, surprised at how much more there was to Gabriel behind his jokes and perverted comments.

“Gabriel?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, Sammy.” Secretly, Sam had helped him as well. The whole reason that Gabriel had plunged so whole heartedly into facing off against his brothers and sisters was to justify his being brought back. If he just slacked off, then that would be an insult to his fallen brothers, so he was trying to do the best he could.

 

Back at Crowley’s manor, he stood in his office in front of his desk, mentally talking himself through what he was going to say. He was fairly certain that ‘ _I’m sorry I’m a twat’_ wouldn’t cut it.

Huffing out a breath, clearing his throat, he steadied himself and did something he had never done in his entire life…he prayed.

“I pray to the angel Balthazar. I would request the presence of your fine-feathered arse…please.” In retrospect, it wasn’t his most eloquent request. It appeared to do the trick, however, as the angel appeared by one of the tall windows, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Pity, I was hoping to see you on your knees.” Balthazar quipped.

Crowley smirked, “Sorry, but this isn’t that kind of call, angel.”

“If it were, I wouldn’t be here.” His blue eyes were guarded. Balthazar had started to doubt that he was right about the warlock’s affections. Having been called here was a good sign, at least.

Crowley made a noise of agreement, leaning back on his desk, hands gripping the edge and legs crossed at the ankle.

“I suppose I should just get to it then.” He tugged at his dark grey tie, loosening it slightly, for it suddenly felt too tight with his nerves. “You and I, while I would like to pretend there’s nothing between us, I would just be lying to myself. The problem lies in that you’re an angel and I’m not. We open up the pearly gates and you go back upstairs, leaving me here. So we were doomed from the start, you see?” Balthazar looked out the window, feeling wounded. He was wrong, because Balthazar wouldn’t be confined to Heaven, but if he didn’t want them to be together then they really were doomed.

“But…it’s hard for me to tell my brain to stop loving you when my heart’s already started.” He looked down at the floor to the side of his feet, feeling uncertain and unsure. Crowley rolled his eyes in spite of himself and wiped at the corner of his right eye—that was currently betraying him and watering—with his fingertips before making a tsking sound. “I’m bloody waxing all poetic over you.”

Balthazar looked back to him, completely taken by surprise. Slowly, with measured steps he walked over to Crowley, planting a foot on either side of his feet. Crowley’s gaze was on his necklace, dipping under the v of his shirt, keeping away from meeting his eyes.

“I’m not used to not being in control, and with this-“ Crowley motioned between them, “I’m completely at a loss.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t have any control either.”

“Look at us, being all sappy.”

“I know, it’s dreadful, isn’t it?” Balthazar smiled and leaned in towards Crowley, a sparkle in his eye.

“Oh absolutely.” Crowley grasped Balthazar’s jacket with both hands in a relaxed hold, finally looking into his blue orbs. “But I draw the line at pet names.” He said with his own grin.

“What? You mean like darling? Angel? Sweetheart? _Love_?”

“Don’t make me shoot you.” Somehow Crowley managed to make that sound affectionate.

“You would miss me too much.” The angel tilted his head and voiced his thoughts. “We do get along remarkably well together, don’t we?”

“It shouldn’t be all that surprising. You’re a little naughty and, loathe as I am to admit it, I’m a little nice.”

Balthazar smiled, “I suppose that’s where the devil in me meets the angel in you.”

Crowley smirked, “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Balthazar grabbed Crowley’s tie and kissed him, but it was soft and gentle, a first for the pair of them. This was new ground for them, but they were both stubborn, snarky bastards and they would be damned if they wouldn’t make things work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn’t notice~ I added another relationship tag ; ) I couldn’t help it! I’ve had it planned for a few chapters now. I don’t think any of you guys will complain. =P  
> I said it! I said the thing~ It even applies to Dean and Cas in the beginning. :>  
> I hope I balanced the sap and snark well at the end. I can’t help but see the pair mocking themselves, but then knowing that they really are secretly romantic sods.


	25. The Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Guys!” Charlie barreled into the room, out of breath, her tablet cradled to her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooope this chapter is fine. I was so excited the whole day writing it waiting for Supernatural! @@

Dean fiddled with the label on the bottle of beer in his hands, nimble fingers working to peel it free from the smooth glass surface, lost in his thoughts. He had tried to keep them at bay, and most times he succeeded, but every so often they would stray to the surface to torment him.

With two parts of the spell to open Heaven left, it was only a matter of time before Cas went home. Provided he would, which given his conviction to seal Heaven before, he thought there was a good chance of it. He didn’t doubt that he loved him, but what if he still wanted to repent for what he had done? Dean felt better about himself after sealing Hell, but not enough to feel like he was worth forgoing Heaven for.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Sam talking to him until he jostled his shoulder.  

“Dean!”

“Huh? Oh, sorry Sam. Were you saying something?”

“Yeah, I was asking if you were okay. You look kind of spaced out.” Sam grabbed the chair next to Dean and pulled it out, the wooden feet scraping across the floor, before sitting down.

“I was just thinking about stuff. It’s not important.”

“Look, I know you always fuss when I push things, but it’s obviously important enough that you’re thinking about it.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“When we open the gates back up, what’s to say that Cas doesn’t just go home? Why should he stay here with me?”

“I doubt he would go back there now. But why don’t you just ask him? I mean, what’s the worst thing you can ask an angel?” Sam said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Who’s your daddy?” Dean said, causing Sam to strangle on a mouthful of beer and have a coughing fit.

Between coughs he managed to choke out, “That’s not funny, Dean.”

“But really, I can’t-“

“Guys!” Charlie barreled into the room, out of breath, her tablet cradled to her chest. “I think I have a blip on Metatron!”

“Are you sure?” Sam and Dean stood up to look at the tablet over her shoulder.

“It wasn’t just a marker that moved, it was a marker that appeared. Which can only be Metatron since he’s the only one that can get into Heaven, right?”

Sam looked at Dean for affirmation before replying, “Yeah, that should be right.”

“So let’s call Gabriel and get going before he pops back up into the clouds.”

“You rang?” They turned to see Gabriel, leaning against a pillar, taking a bite of a candy bar.

“Uh, we did?”

“I sent him a text.” Sam sheepishly held up his phone.

Dean shot Sam a look that seemed to say ‘ _Excuse me?_ ’.

“So give me the sparknotes version of what’s up.”

“We have a fix on Metatron.”

Gabriel threw the wrapper of his now finished candy into a nearby trashcan, “Then what are we waiting on? The more we wait, the bigger chance there is he goes back to the coupe.”

“Shouldn’t we have a plan or something?” Dean gestured to him.

“Yeah, move our asses!”

“I’m all for going in balls to the wall, but for the record, I think this is a bad idea.”

“Dully noted.” Gabriel replied sarcastically.

The archangel sent out mental message to Balthazar and Cas to meet them at the location that listed Metatron’s presence.

 

Putting wind under their wings, the angels quickly made it to Metatron who was talking to one of the fallen. They were in a non-descript location, a few abandoned houses around them, some of their windows boarded and walls covered in graffiti.

Unfortunately, there were also other angels that he had recruited around. Flightless, but still dangerous, and outnumbering the four of them. Without hesitation, Cas grabbed at Metatron, holding him there, not wanting him to flee.

“Ah-ah, no sudden moves.” The angel with the older vessel spoke, eyes shifting between all of them. “Or I give the command to have your friend here disposed of, which I would hate to do, I really would.” He glanced at Cas who was gripping him, putting him in the center of his recruits.

Dean looked over at Gabriel for direction, and saw him tilt his head, eyes trained on Metatron.

Pulling his shoulders back, Gabriel’s posture stiffened and light poured into his eyes. Dean could see his two pairs of wings manifesting, but this time there was a third pair that joined them, brilliant and golden. He watched as the angels around Metatron twitched with discomfort before folding over, screaming and holding their heads. The pitched screams of the angels blew out the windows of the houses as they wavered into their true voices. The archangel was sending out a wavelength to the angels, intense fire and bright light that pierced through the heart of their grace.

“You may be the scribe, Metatron, but I’m the messenger.” His lips curled up at the corner in a smirk.

Taking the opportunity, Cas slid his blade across Metatron’s throat as he had done to him all those months ago, capturing the leaking grace in a vial. Cas put a cap on the vial and went to join Dean, Balthazar and the still channeling Gabriel.

“Wait! You can’t leave me like this! What am I supposed to do?”

Cas looked at him, eyes sharp and cold. “Maybe you should live this new life to the fullest.” He said, words full of bitter venom as he quoted the exact words that Metatron had spoken to him before. The quartet left with those words, leaving the now human Metatron and his recovering angels behind.

           

Gabriel was the last to arrive back at the bunker, his shoulders sagging as soon as his feet hit the ground.

“Whoo, it’s been a while since I’ve had to do that.”  

“What the hell was all of that about?” Dean laid into Gabriel irritably.

“Like I said, a message. You guys never listen.”

“And you have _three_ pairs of wings?”

“Of course I do, all archangels do. I just don’t manifest those because it takes more juice.”

“What happened?” Sam asked, getting up from the sofa, confusion written over his face.

“Apparently our friend Gabe here can mind-whammy other angels.”

“And?” Balthazar asked from his side, getting annoyed with the eldest Winchester.

“And it would have been nice to know!”

“I don’t exactly advertise it on account that I don’t like torturing my brothers, so excuse me _your majesty._ ”

The pair of them started to bicker, Cas and Balthazar piping in with a comment to defend the other.

“Guys?...um, guys?” Sam tried to interject, though he was unheard by the group.

“Can you freakin’ shut up?!” A frazzled looking Kevin shouted from where he stood in the doorway of his room, the normal dark circles from a lack of sleep under his eyes.

The arguing stopped immediately, five stunned pairs of eyes on the prophet. He nodded his head, approving of the quiet, and returned to his cave.

“So,” Sam cleared his throat after a moment of silence, “did you get it?”

Cas gave a stiff nod and held up the vial of grace, the silver cap glinting in the light.

“That’s six parts down and one to go then.”

“ _Technically_ it’s five down because I haven’t done my blessing yet, but that won’t be hard.” Gabriel waved it off.

 

Sitting down in the living room, they tried throwing ideas together to find Death. Then once they did, how to convince him that he wanted to contribute to their cause. It was something they decided to think on because they ranged from finding the zone of a natural disaster to trying to summon him. The problem with the latter option being that they weren’t sure how to summon Death without binding him, and Dean wasn’t particularly fond of testing the threat that Death made last time they had done so. As far as convincing him, they could only hope he would want to do it because the angels were on Earth and disrupting the natural order. If not…well, they would figure that out when they found him.

           

Having ran their minds through all the viable solutions, Dean and Cas went to bed and Balthazar departed from the bunker, leaving Gabriel and Sam in the living room. Sam was somewhat surprised given the trickster usually went elsewhere at night. Where to exactly, he wasn’t sure, nor did he find it important.

“You staying here or something?”

“I’m just resting.”

Sam hummed a response, getting up to put a book back on the shelf. There was something Sam was curious about though, about how an archangel’s blessing really worked, or if he knew what the kiss of Death actually was.

“Hey Gabe.” No response, “Gabriel?”

Sam walked back to the sofa and peered around, finding Gabriel slouched back, head leaning on the corner of the sofa. To Sam’s surprise, he was asleep. This worried Sam in a way, wondering how exhausted and stretched thin did an archangel have to be to need sleep? It got his mind thinking on how much Gabriel had been cradling them through this, picking up any slack for the weight they couldn’t carry. He wasn’t even sure if the other angels realized it or just took it for granted.

Sam grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa and threw it over him, only realizing how silly the gesture probably was as angels didn’t feel warmth or cold. He wiped the palms of his hands on his pants and cleared his throat before walking over and sitting down in the armchair perpendicular to the sofa, browsing for anything useful on his laptop.

When Gabriel woke up, he yawned animatedly before he noticed the blanket thrown over him. Though no one else was in the living room any longer, he knew who had done it considering the choices were slim. With an amused hum, he flew off to his apartment that resided in a nondescript pocket dimension.

 

Dean had gotten the hang of falling asleep as an angel, but there were some nights where he would wake up feeling wired. Getting up, he decided to head to the kitchen and grab a glass of water. Being careful not to rouse Cas, he threw his legs over the side of the bed. The silence in the bunker hung heavy, the only sounds in the darkness were the slap of his bare feet on the floor and the rustle of his clothes as he walked down the hallway. He passed a clock on his left and noticed its hands were stuck in one position, though it still sounded with a pervasive ‘ _tick, tock’._ He would have to fix it tomorrow, he thought to himself, thinking it ordinary. However, moving a bit further down the hallway, Dean spotted something out of place on the stairs leading into the bunker from the corner of his eye. He stood stock still, heart stuttering into his throat from adrenaline. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at the intruder, every hair on his body standing up. He took in the familiar sight of a black suit, a slick, black cane, long boney fingers, and a gaunt face.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Death?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley isn’t in this chapter, but like I said on my tumblr, I just want to take him home with me. We can paint each other’s fingernails while we gossip about how cray cray Abaddon is. But then I remember he’s the King of Hell and would probably make me sell my soul. That new episode was just...yes.


	26. Hello, Old Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies~! I should just stop making deadlines for myself. I get distracted too easily. Hope I do Death justice!

Dean’s mind was whirling. Death coming to them had never registered in his mind as a possibility. But there he was, walking down the iron staircase, pale fingers sliding down the railing with each slow step.

“Why are you here?”

“A slumber party, why do you think?” Death intoned dryly.

He supposed that was a bit of a stupid question, but it’s hard to speak intelligibly when Death is in your domicile and sitting down in your living room.

“Can I get you something? A beer maybe?” Dean motioned towards the kitchen.

“That won’t be necessary. Take a seat, Dean.” He indicated the chair opposite him with a smooth movement of his hand.

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly and stiffly walked over and sat in the chair, having difficulty getting comfortable. The cushion suddenly feeling too stiff and the chair space too open, making him feel small.

“I guess you know about the spell then?” He shifted uncomfortably again, just now realizing he was sitting in nothing but a baggy pair of drawstring pants in front of a horseman. He stopped asking himself long ago how he found himself in these situations.

“With a wit like that, I’m surprised you’re still alive. Though that’s also the point of my visit, as you were resurrected—again—not long ago.”

Dean wanted to retort on the remark about his wit, but they kind of needed his assistance, so he bit his tongue. “Yeah, I was, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

“I understand you need something from me for the spell. I will give it to you, in exchange for letting me touch your soul.”

Dean felt a chill rush up his spine and he felt a cold wash over him. “Do what now?”

Death rolled his eyes, as if Dean were being an idiot, “You were the last being resurrected, which means that you were the last soul touched by God. That will be a link to allow me to commune with him.”

“So you’re going to use me as a cellphone tower to talk to the big guy?”

“That’s my offer, take it or leave it. Personally, I would rather send his rebellious little teenagers back home since they’re making a mess of things.”

“I’m not gonna-“, Dean licked his lip nervously and gestured with his hand, “-explode or anything am I?”

“As I understand, you’re needed for the spell, so that would be a bit unconducive, would it not?”

Dean really didn’t see another option, so as long as he came out of this in one piece, he couldn’t really decline. Didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous as all hell though, but he doubted anyone in this situation wouldn’t be. “Alright, just try not to jostle the furniture too much while you’re in there.” He stood up from his chair, “So what do I do?”

“Lie down and stay completely still.”

Dean walked over and lay down on the sofa, Death walking over to perch on the edge of the sofa next to him. Dean swallowed anxiously as Death raised his hand and, with a fluid movement, slipped it inside of him, pale fingers sinking into him.

He could feel the ancientness behind the touch, the slow decay of the universe, the dying of billions of molecules, the loss of life. Soon after, there was another countering presence. It sent shockwaves through him, blinding through his being. He felt light and creation— _life—_ flare inside of him, and it was so grand and wonderful. He couldn’t help the tears that fell from his green eyes as the power of God resonated through him. He nearly crumpled beneath the weight of words that washed over him, ‘ _You are worthy._ ’

‘ **Hello, old friend.** ’

‘ **It’s been a long time since you’ve shown your face.** ’

‘ **I believed it was time for my creations to spread their wings without me. I cannot guide them through everything. Otherwise, they are but my slaves.** ’

‘ **Your _creations_ have been running amuck, leaving me to clean up the mess.** ’

‘ **It’s the cost of free will. It can be a heavy burden to bear.** ’

‘ **I think it is time we reconvened.** ’

There was a pause through the link, ‘ **I agree.** ’

‘ **I look forward to it.** ’

‘ **I will find you when you are ready. Farewell.** ’

‘ **Goodbye.** ’

Death removed his hand from Dean, who was trembling and gasping for air, body racked from harboring the two oldest entities in existence. 

Death grabbed his cane and pushed the top of it, the carved piece flipping back to reveal a smooth, black ball of darkness. While small, the obsidian surface seemed to contain an abyss within, entrancing to the eye. He held it out, waiting for Dean to hold up his hand before setting it in his palm.

“I don’t think I need to tell you not to lose that. I will be back for it after you complete the ritual.” He rose, walking back towards the stairs.

“What is it, exactly, the kiss of Death?”

He stopped, looking over his shoulder, “Part of my soul. If that breaks, everything on this planet dies. So _don’t break it_.” With that, he climbed the stairs and exited, leaving Dean with the black orb in his hand. Part of him was almost afraid to so much as move with it. Setting it lightly down on the sofa, he got up and fetched one of the small, padded wooden boxes in the bunker and set it down inside, closing it and locking it. ‘ _How the hell am I supposed to explain this to everyone?_ ’

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Sam looked at him like he sprouted a second head.

“Dead serious.” ‘ _I made a pun._ ’, Dean had to keep from grinning at his own joke, lest he garner the wrath of one of Sam’s bitchfaces.

Picking up the box, Dean opened it and showed Sam the shiny black ball nestled inside. Charlie, Gabriel, Cas, Balthazar and even Crowley crowded around, wanting to get a look at the object. Kevin, for his part, decided to stay well away from it.

“So mummy and daddy poked around in your gourd last night? What was that like?” Crowley inquired.

“You couldn’t phrase that any differently? And it felt like…” To be honest, it felt like being reborn, but he wasn’t going to say that. “Pretty much how you think it would, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“As I understand it, we have all the parts now, yes?” Balthazar spoke from where he sat on the back of the sofa, angled back and leaning against one arm.

“Grab some bottles of our blood, Gabriel’s blessing, go over the translations from the tablet and yeah, we’ll be knockin’ on Heaven’s door.” His comment earned him several dry looks. ‘ _Everyone’s a critique._ ’

 

Dean, Cas and Crowley went over their respective lines from the spell, Cas helping Dean along some of the Enochian words. Gabriel sat perched on the railing over the bunker, preparing his part. Sam watched him as he reached behind him, carding fingers through the air until disconnected feathers appeared. One from some sort of bird of prey that he couldn’t name, a gold one that seemed to shimmer in the light, and one that was stark white. In a blink, Gabriel disappeared and came back, a rosary now in one hand and a wooden bowl in his lap. Holding the three feathers together at the base, he looped the rosary around them, holding them together there. Dipping the feathers in the bowl, Sam could see his mouth moving, but couldn’t hear him from where he sat across the room. Bringing them back up, he blew softly against them, silver blue flooding bright amber eyes for the briefest of moments. Watching the feathers curve slightly against his breath, he swore he heard the light tinkling of bells somewhere off in the distance. Gabriel glanced at him and winked slyly. He stopped blowing and the bells stopped. Tilting his head and inspecting his work, the bowl vanished and Gabriel was standing down with the others.

The Heaven tablet had specified that the spell needed to be performed at night, so they had a few more hours to rake over every detail and make sure it was correct. It was also decided that Sam, Kevin and Charlie would go back to the room that they warded earlier. While it appeared that the bunker had fallen back off the radar after the tablet had dispelled its energy, it was better safe than sorry.

After what seemed to be so long, they would finally be reversing the spell Metatron cast. This was what all their hard work had lead up to. Dean looked over at Cas and smiled, though inside he ached, thinking of his angel going back home after all their time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't tell me Death isn't a little sassy with a license plate that says 'BUH BYE'.  
> I think there’s only one more chapter after this! Two at the most~ *gasp*


	27. Home is Where the Heart is

Dean relaxed back into the driver’s seat of the Impala, rubbing his hands over the steering wheel as he cruised down the road, Cas sitting next to him in the passenger’s seat. He had decided on driving to the location they picked for the spell to try and relax his nerves.

Sighing, he flexed his fingers on the steering wheel as he listened to the familiar sound of Zepplin resonating from the speakers. Feeling a touch, he looked down to see Cas’ hand on his. Pulling his right hand from the wheel, he twined his fingers in Cas’ and gave a short squeeze, grounding himself in the warm touch.

Arriving at the area, Dean pressed the brakes and the car slowed to a halt, tires throwing up dust from the dirt road. Climbing out of the car, he shut the door behind him, sending out a dull thump into the darkness.

Balthazar and Crowley walked over to join them, having arrived a couple minutes prior by flight, Balthazar’s arm around Crowley’s shoulders. There was a table set up in the field across from them, all the ingredients sitting on the smooth surface, Gabriel perched at the side. He and Balthazar had agreed to be there for the ritual as insurance that no other angels would interfere, primarily the ones that had been recruited by Metatron.

Balthazar placed a soft kiss to Crowley’s left temple before Crowley went to stand at the table.

“Looks like you’re getting soft, Balthazar.” Dean said with a smirk.

“Oh, no. I was just trying to avoid PDA for your benefit, but if you’d prefer I could throw him down on the hood of your Impala and-“

“Alright I get it! None of that!” Dean yelled, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Nobody’s defiling baby.” He could hear Gabriel laugh and flipped him off before starting across the field. He and Balthazar were like a couple of perverted teenage schoolgirls sometimes.

Dean stood center of the table, Crowley on his left and Cas to his right.

“Let’s start this mofo before the earth opens up or something.” Gabriel said, making a hurried motion towards them.

Cas nodded and started reading his part of the spell, deep voice rhythmically smoothing over the words before he unplugged the vial of his blood and poured it in. The red mixture coated the bright feathers of Gabriel’s that were the manifest of his blessing and pooled under the vial of grace and dark orb. Crowley started in next, his accent hiding under the words, shaking out his own blood from the vial in his hand. When it was added, a slow roll of thunder sounded in the distance, though whether it was from the spell or a coincidence, they couldn’t be sure. Taking a deep breath, Dean rattled off the Enochian text, tongue clicking dryly off the roof of his mouth. He paused for a moment with his blood poised over the bowl before tipping it in.

The angels drew up rigidly as their grace flared out, glowing bright in the darkness causing Crowley to cover his eyes. A point of light appeared in the sky and scattered out like a shockwave. The light that spread out lit up the night like day and spread until it vanished by the horizon, encompassing the globe. When the light passed, the sky returned to darkness, all the clouds gone. The stars shone so lustrously in the clear sky, the moon illuminating the forest around them.

The angel airwaves were full of murmurs, all spreading the same message, ‘ _Heaven is open_ ’.

Dean looked over at Cas to see him smiling, finally having fixed what he broke—albeit through deceit by Metatron. He reached over and curled his pinky around his finger loosely.

“You want to hold my hand too?” Crowley jibbed next to him.

“I aint touchin’ your sticky hand! Who knows where it’s been.”

“I do.” Balthazar chirped next to him, placing a hand on his waist.

Dean made a face, “C’mon Cas, let’s get out of here before I get traumatized.”

“I’ll be sure to take you off the video list then.” Crowley grinned, always enjoying making the eldest Winchester squirm.

That warranted a full body shudder from Dean, who didn’t want to think about him even kissing anyone, let alone doing the horizontal tango. Then top it off with Balthazar added into the mix and he was ready to crawl out of his skin. It had nothing to do with their physical appearance, and everything to do with them being smarmy dicks.

Dean could hear them laughing as he and Cas walked back to the car. ‘ _A match made in hell._ ’, he thought grumpily.

When Crowley and Balthazar arrived back at his manor, Crowley’s jovial mood died off, realizing this was it.

“I guess this was where the angel goes back to his nest in the sky.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure the months without me are going to be unbearable.”

“Months?” Crowley arched an eyebrow.

“Yes. One to three, depending on how well things go.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?” Crowley angled his chin down and looked up at Balthazar, mouth parted and tongue poised behind his teeth. 

He could tell that Crowley was fighting the urge to go off on him.

“Well, I had to ask Gabriel to be sure.”

“But you had to have had some idea?” He gestured with one hand.

“I might have, yes, but I didn’t want to disappoint you if I was wrong.”

Crowley closed his eyes and sucked on his teeth before speaking, “You’re lucky I’m so enamored with you darling.”

“I know.” He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Three months tops and I’ll be back.”

Before he could leave, Crowley yanked him down and kissed him more soundly, teeth teasing his bottom lip as he pulled back. “I look forward to it.”

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a proper goodbye.” Balthazar smirked.

“That means you’ll just have to give me an especially _improper_ hello later.”

“I plan on it.” He promised before leaving.

Putting the Impala in park, Dean sat there with the keys still in the column. Biting his lip nervously, he reached over and grabbed Cas before he changed his mind. Flapping his wings, he took them away to a place he had been thinking about sending Cas off at. Dean turned away from him and wandered off a few paces.

“Dean, wha-?” Cas looked around, immediately recognizing the location.

They stood in an empty warehouse, surrounded by walls of wooden panels and a tin roof overhead. This was where Cas first officially came into Dean’s life, so he thought it was only fitting that this would be the place that he leave it.

“I uh, just thought this would be a great place to send you off, ya know?” He was fighting the prickling sensation behind his eyes, he was doing way too much crying lately.

“ _Dean._ ” Cas reached up and put a hand on his shoulder that Dean shrugged off.

“Look, I get it man, it’s okay. It’s your home.” His voice hitched slightly on the word home.

Cas sighed in frustration, “Look at me. Please.”

Letting out a wet breath Dean turned around, surprised when Cas reached up and cupped his face with both his hands, looking at him determinedly in the eyes. “Don’t you understand, my _home_ is with you.”

“But don’t you have to go back up there?” He wrapped his fingers around Cas’ wrists.

“Gabriel and Balthazar decided it was probably best that I stay down here…and I agreed.” Cas rose up on his toes and softly brushed his nose against Dean’s, blue eyes peering up at his through dark lashes. “I love you and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Dean choked down a sob and smiled brightly, “I love you too.” He moved his arms down to wrap them around Cas, holding him close. He kissed him once, twice, then more firmly a third time, lingering there as he smoothed his hands over his back. Maybe it was a little chick-flicky, but he had Cas and couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.

To Sam’s surprise, once Gabriel arrived and told them it was safe to leave the warded room, he didn’t leave. He found him in one of the store rooms in the bunker, standing partway up a small set of stairs, looking at some of the artifacts.

“Aren’t you going back?”

Gabriel picked up a skull that had razor sharp teeth and multiple eye sockets, “Wow, you are one ugly bastard.” Gabriel mumbled before setting it back down and picking up a small box, running his thumbs over it as he replied. “No. If they really need me up there to crack some skulls I told Balty and my officers to give me a ring. But I can’t go back, not now and maybe not ever. The reasons I left are still there and are only worse. I don’t even know how few of us left there are and I would rather not see it for myself. I’ve pushed myself to do a lot through all of this, but that’s one thing I can’t do.”

“So what are you going to do?” Sam really hoped he wasn’t going to go back to being the Trickster, at least in the capacity that he killed people that weren’t deserving of it.

“Well,” He put the box back in place, “I was thinking maybe do some exploring, go on a vacation, chill out. Though I think it would be more fun with someone else with me.” He held out his hand to Sam, “What do you say?”

Sam looked taken aback, “Are you asking me to go with you?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Why me? I mean, you could ask anybody or just make someone up or something.”

“That’s right, cosmos at my fingertips and I’m standing here asking _you_.”

He felt a bit panicky, trying to think about it. Not long ago he would have outright said no, but he had gotten to know him a little better and he wasn’t as bad as he thought. He was actually funny sometimes, though he occasionally still felt like shoving a sock in his mouth.

While Sam was going through his inner monologue, Gabriel stayed where he was, hand still outstretched. ‘C’mon _kiddo._ ’ He wanted to encourage him to say yes, but this decision had to be his own. Not because he had to do it because the world was ending, or had to do it because someone needed him to, but because he wanted to. “This isn’t a wedding proposal, Winchester.”

By now Sam was trying to figure out if he still wanted a normal life because, let’s face it, going off with Gabriel was pretty much the opposite of normal. Though maybe, just maybe, being different didn’t have to be so bad after all. ‘ _Fuck it._ ’

Sam reached out and took Gabriel’s hand, his familiar smirk falling into place. “Good choice.” With a flutter, they were off, to anywhere and any _when_ they wanted to go.

Dean and Cas arrived back at the main room of the bunker to find everyone sitting there. “So, now what?” Charlie asked with a smile.

Dean tilted his head—a habit he had picked up from Cas, “Well, I guess it’s back to the

usual. Saving people, hunting things.”

“The family business, huh?”

Dean smiled and gave a short nod of his head, “Yeah.”

“So are we all invited?”

Dean looked around at everyone. Charlie, who he had grown to look at as a sister; Kevin,

who was finally starting to look relaxed now that there were no more tablets; Garth, who had stopped by as an extra pair of hands—still wearing Bobby’s old hat.

“As a grumpy old father figure of mine once said, family don’t end with blood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley may be on their side now, but it doesn’t mean Dean has to like him. XD  
> Anyways~, thank you to everyone who’s stayed with me so far and those that have just joined! Love you all! : )   
> -I did start a sequel, but I stopped part way through because it just wasn't going in the right direction. Maybe one day I will come back to it


End file.
